Shattered
by Tracy Jane
Summary: WARNING: Graphic Rape in Chapter One. After a team night out, Carter is attacked, and everyone from best friend to boss is forced to deal with the consequences. Each chapter is a different point of view.
1. Attack

Sam Carter drew her leather jacket tightly round her to protect her from the slight chill in the air. She smiled at the boys' friendly banter, as they all said their goodbyes, ready to leave and head home for the evening, sated and contented after their team night at O'Malley's. She flexed her knees as if walking on the spot and wished that she'd worn jeans, or at least something a little more substantial than these thin black trousers.

"Come on Carter, let's get you home," he quipped, as if she were a 12 year old schoolgirl, out past her bedtime.

Sam closed her eyes briefly. Give me strength, she prayed. She reopened them and chose to ignore the tone in his voice. "It's okay, Sir. I can walk."

Jack shrugged as if to say 'suit yourself'. Over the years he had come to realise that it was pretty much pointless trying to argue with Carter about male chivalry. If she wanted to walk home, then fine. It wasn't like she needed the company - she could keep herself entertained with all the thoughts in that overactive brain of hers.

Sam stood on her toes and gave Teal'c a quick peck on the cheek. She then moved to Daniel, who she pulled into a tight and drawn out hug. She kissed him lightly on the cheek as well. Jack shuffled uncomfortably as she turned her attentions to him.

"Good night, Sir," she said stiffly.

A moment's pause passed between them as she waited for a response. He stood rigidly, before moving towards her, his arms outstretched. "C'mere."

He wrapped his strong arms tightly around her and breathed in the scent of her soft blonde hair. It was rare they got the opportunity to do this legitimately. In fact, it would have looked suspicious if they hadn't, given her farewells to the others.

"Goodnight, Sir," she whispered as she held him.

He smiled as he nuzzled into her neck. "It's not too late to change your mind, you know."

"Good night, Sir," she repeated firmly, as she drew away.

Sam turned on her heel, waving over her shoulder, and headed back towards home, zipping up her fitted leather jacket to just beneath her bust, trying to preserve a little warmth on the chilly evening. She walked briskly back to her house, only a twenty minute walk from O'Malley's, grateful for the fresh air and the time to think over her latest scientific project. So wrapped up in her own thoughts, she didn't notice the figure lurking just a few metres behind.

She pushed the front gate open and walked up the pathway, skipping up the steps and fumbling in her jacket pocket for her keys. She pulled them out, spilling loose change across the porch, then stooped in the poor light to collect it.

Sam stood up, a slight prickle in the back of her neck, as if she could feel eyes on her, but dismissed it. One too many beers, she thought. She moved to the door, key in hand and turned it in the lock, pushing it open, as she bent down to pick up a letter she saw on the welcome mat.

Standing just inside the doorway, she ignored the persistent chill of the night air and ripped open the letter, wondering who it could be from. The prickle in her neck distracted her again. She turned, and felt a sharp blow to her skull as her vision faded into darkness.

Sam's head was throbbing and she was unable to think clearly. Her skin was rubbing against the harsh carpet, ripping against her back. She felt her lower arms pressed down by rough hands, bruising her bones, locking them into an awkward position. The person was kneeling on her shins, using them, along with her arms, as points of leverage for his considerable weight, whilst keeping her from moving or causing damage.

She slowly opened her eyes and was confronted by a cold leer. A leer, followed by a deep thrust as the man above her plunged into her, making her scream automatically, her muscles reflexively trying to force her limbs out of his firm grasp.

The assailant responded with an icy chuckle, as he leant down and kissed her. Sam clamped her teeth on his lip, causing drops of blood to trickle out of his mouth, sprinkle onto her pale skin. Undeterred, the man continued pounding into her, Sam now biting her own lip, as tears of pain and horror trickled down her face, flooding it with mascara.

She closed her eyes firmly shut as he drove into her harder, with more force. Her disgust and fear gave him satisfaction, built up his rhythm and dark enthusiasm. The strength caused the friction between her back and the carpet to increase, as she slide further along, her head now bashing rhythmically against the wall.

His movements became faster, more erratic, and she cried out to him as his hand slipped, now painfully pinning her flesh to the floor. She automatically flung her eyes wide, to see him sweating over her, his eyes shut and his mouth hanging open, emitting a low groan. He thrust deep into her as he climaxed, pushing against her now tender cervix.

He relaxed slightly, allowing Sam to head butt him and make a break for the door. She was naked, vulnerable, but blind panic forced her out, regardless of the consequences. She stumbled to her feet, her head still throbbing from the constant pounding against the wall, the insides of her thighs slick with semen and blood from the tender tissue he had ripped within.

A hand closed around her ankle, and Sam came crashing back down, her head hitting the door and sending her back into the distant realm of unconsciousness.


	2. Discovery Jack

"You really should have walked her home, you know," Daniel muttered, watching the blonde disappearing into the distance. He had a troubled look on his face as he fidgeted uncomfortably.

Jack shrugged. "You know Carter. No point arguing with her."

"Indeed," agreed Teal'c quietly. "Though I may have concerns, Major Carter is a considerably talented warrior."

"So," said Jack, deeming the topic to be closed, "anyone for a game of hockey this weekend?" He looked at the Jaffa's raised eyebrow. "Ice planet."

The three men discussed the possibilities of playing hockey on their next mission. Jack was in favour, Teal'c was curious, but Daniel had his doubts. The conversation moved from hockey to football. Who was gonna win this season? Daniel stifled a yawn.

"Damn, it's getting late," Jack said, looking at his watch. "We've been stood here yapping for almost an hour." He didn't care too much though, he enjoyed his team nights out.

Jack slapped the men on the back and said his goodbyes, before heading to his truck. He fumbled in his pocket for his keys, pulling them out with a crumpled piece of paper. Intrigued, he straightened it out and skimmed over. Frak! It was a memo he was supposed to give to Carter.

He got into the truck and turned on the ignition, whilst fastening his seat belt. He'd swing by Carter's and drop the memo in, it'd give him an excuse to check that she'd made it home ok. He couldn't help but feel protective of the young, female officer, even though he was aware that she was perfectly capable of fending for herself.

Jack drove over to her house, musing over the night's proceedings along the way. As usual, it had been a great night out, and, he was happy to say, there was plenty of mutual flirting between the two of them, including a little competitiveness over the pool table. He often wondered how it was that she was so good. He could quite imagine her doing the mathematical equations in her head to get the shot just right. Hey, it'd be like simple addition after her equations to solve interstellar drift.

He pulled up behind Sam's car and hopped out, locking the door, then bounding towards her front door. He stopped short. The door was open. Not much, but it was swaying in the breeze. Jack bristled, he knew Carter wouldn't leave her door open like that.

He jumped up the steps and pushed the door open. The sight before him made bile rise in the back of his through, made him grip the door frame for support. For an instant he was lost in panic, as he saw the pale, blood smattered and bruised figure lying naked in the hallway.

"Carter?" He asked, falling to her side. He didn't care that she was naked, no embarrassment, no shame, no lust, just pure concern and worry for the unconscious form in front of him. He put his arms beneath her back and scooped her to him, trying to rub her cold body warm, trying to rouse her. "Sam, come on, wake up."

"Sir?" she asked, semi dazed.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief. She was conscious. He stroked her hair and pulled her to him in a close hug, but felt her body tense in his arms.

"Sir, please," she said firmly, more awake, trying to disentangle herself from him. She pulled herself onto her knees, facing him.

He saw her look into his eyes. Her face was stained with mascara, her eyes bloodshot, but there was a firmness there, determination mingled with fear. Jack touched her lightly on the arm and she flinched, snapping her arm out of his reach.

"Carter?" he asked, his tone low and sympathetic.

He watched her as she tried to cover herself up with her arms, suddenly aware that she was naked. He wanted to look after her, but she was obviously resisting. He got up and moved to the bedroom, pulling the duvet off the bed to wrap around her. He walked back and passed it to her

She took it from him and wrapped it tightly around her, almost using it as a shield, a barrier to keep herself away from him. He noticed and furrowed his brow, slightly hurt that she was acting like this.

"What happened, Sam?" he asked again, gently.

"Nothing," she retorted, a slight hint of annoyance in her voice. "I'm fine. Please. Leave me alone."

"No, you're not 'fine', Carter," Jack growled, somewhere between pity and anger. "I just found you lying naked and unconscious in your hallway, covered in bruises, with your front door swinging open."

He saw her look down at the floor in embarrassment as he said that, and a stray tear fall down her cheek.

"Now," he confronted, "Unless I'm very much mistaken, that is not your normal Tuesday night behaviour."

"Sir," she urged. "Just go."

He sighed and fiddled with his car keys, not speaking, not knowing what to say. She wouldn't tell him, but he had a good idea of what had happened to her, and it wasn't an image he wanted. Seeing her like that, vulnerable and weak, but fierce and determined despite what had happened… it made his heart bleed.

"Samantha," he said softly, reaching his hand out, waiting for her to make the first move in touching him. "Sam, please. Come back to the SGC and let the Doc check you over."

"No," she gasped, fear in her voice. "Not Janet, please not Janet."

Jack sighed. "Sam, I need you to do this. I can make it an order."

He watched silently as she closed her eyes. He couldn't decide if she was praying or calculating her options. Whichever one, he hoped she'd come with him, he needed to know that she'd be alright.

"Carter?" he prompted.

She looked up to him, confusion in her eyes. "I can't, Sir."

"Sure you can, Carter," he comforted gently, shifting closer to her and putting a hand on her shoulder. She fell into him, starting to sob as she let go. "Come on, let's go."

He helped Sam to her feet and noticed how weak she was, how she looked like she'd collapse any moment. He scooped her up in his arms, carefully keeping the blanket wrapped around her as he carried her to his truck.

Jack opened it, and helped her in. looking at her fragile form in concern. Whoever he was, wherever he was, Jack was going to get him for doing this to Carter.

"It's okay," he said gently. "You're out of the house now. You'll be safe on base. You can lock yourself in your quarters and we'll station a couple of guards outside."

He didn't know if she'd heard him or not, there was no response from the figure in the back. He bit his lip in concern and started the engine, having to force himself not to speed all the way to the mountain. Despite dangers, he used his cell whilst driving, asking the doctor to meet them at the entrance with a stretcher. He didn't go into any more detail.


	3. Discovery Sam

Sam felt herself being tipped forward into a sitting position, warm but calloused hands massaging her back. She allowed herself to be moved, she was too weak and sore to do otherwise.

"Sir?" she asked, still dazed and confused, opening her eyes slightly to see her commanding officer above her, looking terrified.

She watched as he breathed a sigh of relief and his eyes started to water. He pulled her into a tight hug, whilst stroking her hair, but her whole body tensed in his grasp. The memories came flooding back and she felt the bile rise in the back of her throat.

Sam pleaded with the Colonel to stop, and tried to move out of his arms, shifting to a kneeling position. She winced. The bruises covering her body were more extensive than she remembered, the burns on her back sent pain shooting through her body with every movement.

She looked into his eyes and saw worry and concern. She didn't want his pity, she wanted him to go, she needed to be left alone. She wasn't a child, she didn't need his sympathy, they had been through worse off world. She was sure they had been through worse.

Sam felt a wave of anger surging through her. Why was he looking at her as if she was a child? As if she were weak? Why was he here at her house? Did he not trust her to get home safely on her own? She hated him for finding her like that, bruised and battered in her own hallway, and she hated that he'd never look at her in the same way again.

Her arm automatically snapped back as O'Neill tried to touch her. She knew that he would never hurt her, that was obvious, but he was still a man. She suddenly realised just how exposed she was, that she was still naked. She tried to cover herself with her arms, shifting slightly as she did so. Looking down to the floor, embarrassed by her vulnerability, she noticed cuts and bruises that she hadn't seen before, that couldn't possibly have been caused by…

Sam started to panic as she realised that the attack hadn't ended when she lost consciousness. The horror of not knowing what had been done to her body, alongside the knowledge of what the attacker was capable of.

She looked up to see her commanding officer stood with her duvet. She hadn't realised he had gone, she was that wrapped up in her own thoughts. She took the cover from him and wrapped it tightly around her, chiding herself for not noticing his disappearance. It was this lack of attention that had caused everything in the first place.

"What happened, Sam?" she heard him say to her.

"Nothing," she snapped.

She didn't know what made her react like that, whether she was annoyed at his sympathy or at her own weakness. She was never weak. She survived everything, why was she acting like a child now?

Sam closed her eyes and drew a breath to calm herself before looking into his eyes and speaking again.

"I'm fine. Please. Leave me alone," she urged him, trying to look at him with determination and confidence in her eyes.

"No, you're not 'fine', Carter," he growled.

Sam sensed the anger in her voice and felt her flesh prickle with fear. She wanted to run, but she was far too weak to escape.

"I just found you lying naked and unconscious in your hallway, covered in bruises, with your front door swinging open," he confronted, "Now, unless I'm very much mistaken, that is not your normal Tuesday night behaviour."

"Sir," she urged. "Just go."

Sam couldn't stop the tears from trickling down her face. She felt so ashamed of what had happened, ashamed that she couldn't stop it. She was a trained Air Force officer, how could she let that happen to her? She couldn't bear to let O'Neill see her like that, see her in such a mess. He had seen her naked, vulnerable, she had seen the horror and pity in his eyes.

Silence passed between the two of them and Sam shifted uncomfortably. She didn't want to tell him, she couldn't tell him, yet she saw in his eyes that he knew, and that alone caused her heart wrenching pain.

"Samantha," she heard him break the silence. "Sam, please. Come back to the SGC and let the Doc check you over."

Sam felt her body tense in fear. The Doctor. Janet. She couldn't face her, not now. Janet was her best friend, it was bad enough that Jack knew, but Janet…. She couldn't do it, she couldn't let herself be seen like that. To have her prodding her, inspecting every inch of her ripped and battered body, taking swabs. She was ashamed and afraid to let anyone get so intimate and personal with her, let alone her best friend.

"No," she gasped. "Not Janet, please not Janet."

Jack sighed. "Sam, I need you to do this. I can make it an order."

Sam closed her eyes and blocked him out, her logical mind battling with her emotions. She didn't want to disobey a direct order, but the mere thought of leaving the house filled her with dread. At the same time she couldn't stay there, the memories were too painful. The image of the attacker's face flashed through her mind, a face dripping with sweat, his eyes shut in ecstasy. She realised in panic that she was cornered….

"Carter?" O'Neill broke into her thoughts, trying to prompt her.

She looked up to him, confusion in her eyes. "I can't, Sir."

"Sure you can, Carter," he comforted gently, shifting closer to her and putting a hand on her shoulder.

Sam was torn between panic at staying and panic at leaving. Her emotions were strained between disobeying her CO and saving herself the shame of facing her best friend. She couldn't cope with all this. She had never prepared for it. Why her? Why now? Why him? She snapped and fell into his arms, sobbing in earnest.

"Come on, let's go."

She stumbled to her feet, aided heavily by the Colonel. She felt the bruises, the strained muscles in her legs as she tried to stand. The pain in her groin and around her thighs made her wince, the aching in her abdomen made her clutch her stomach. She felt a wave of nausea and swayed.

O'Neill swept her up in his arms. Sam didn't know whether she was angry or relieved. Despite the pain, despite how difficult it was to walk, he had just ripped away her choice. For the second time tonight she was helpless, incapable of standing up to the man in control.

She continued to cry gently as she was carried and laid out on the back seat of the truck. She wanted to run, get out, she couldn't stand the way the evening was spiralling out of her control. She was always in control. She was Sam Carter, an officer in the Air Force.

But she knew she couldn't. She knew she was too weak, that she'd be driven to the base and have to face Janet and the General. She felt her throat constrict. All these years she had tried to make it in a man's world, and now she was there, she was isolated. All these men, any one of them could…

No. She wasn't going to think like that. She was Sam Carter, an officer in the Air Force. She would get through this if it killed her. No one broke Sam Carter that easily.


	4. Examination Janet

Janet Frasier picked up the phone in the infirmary.

"Frasier," she said brusquely, wondering who would be ringing from off base at this hour.

She furrowed her brow as she heard O'Neill's voice, she thought SG1 were supposed to be on one of their infamous "team nights". He didn't give many details, just that he needed a stretcher and a med team to meet him at the base entrance. She wondered what had happened this time. Daniel had too much to drink? Fallen down some steps and broken a leg?

Janet shrugged. She knew it wasn't going to be serious, that sort of stuff only happened off world. She was tempted to send them all off down to the ER and let them wait 4 hours, but she hadn't got anything better to do. SG7 weren't due back for hours.

Calling to a group of medics, she grabbed an emergency first aid pack, then made her way to the surface. She marched quickly and purposefully, only stopping briefly for security checks and to swipe her ID card at various intervals.

She waited with her team in the large semi-circular tunnel at the entrance to the base and watched as O'Neill's truck pulled up and he hopped out and round to the back doors. She noted how drained he looked, the fear and concern in his eyes, visible even from this distance. She knew something was wrong, someone was hurt.

Sam. The realisation hit her with a blinding force. The worry in his voice on the phone, the fear in his eyes. She fought her way through the swarm of airmen to the truck, her throat constricting slightly. She forced the panic back, forced herself to be the professional soldier and medic as Jack lifted a wrapped body from the back of his truck.

"What happened?" she asked, making her way to him as fast as she could.

Janet stopped as she saw the figure in Jack's arms. Sam was stiff, but seemed to be unconscious, her face covered with flecks of blood and washes of mascara. Her neck was bruised and bitten and her long, slender legs that poked out of the blanket were battered and scratched.

"What happened?" She repeated, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Jack didn't reply, but Janet could see the answer in the dark look he gave her.

God, not Sam. Please, not Sam.

She followed silently, trying to collect her emotions, bury them, as the Colonel ignored the stretcher and carried Sam into the elevator, Janet's small frame struggling to match his fast pace, set by long, powerful legs.

They marched towards the infirmary, Janet trotting slightly. It took what seemed like forever, as the thoughts and images refused to be cornered and raced through her mind… what he had done to her best friend, how he had over powered the strong willed officer.

Janet watched as the Colonel laid Sam down gently on one of the white paper covered trolleys. She smiled warmly at his tenderness, and stroked his arm lightly as she guided him away and told him sit down. She felt his initial resistance, but knew he was too emotionally drained to argue with her. She wanted him out of the way whilst she checked the blonde, she knew how difficult the process was going to be, how intimate and awkward it would be for all parties. But she also knew better than to order the fiercely protective Colonel out of the infirmary.

The petite doctor swallowed as she drew the curtain around the cubicle. She snapped protective gloves onto her hands and gingerly drew back the duvet covering her friend. She noticed Sam's tiny flinch, proving her earlier suspicions that were roused when Sam had been stiff, not limp, in Jack's arms. The sleep was feigned.

Janet opened her mouth to say something, to tell her that she knew, but thought better of it. Sam was embarrassed enough. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to steel herself against what was coming next, trying to detach herself, maintain a professional distance. She peeled back the cover.

"Sam!" she gasped in horror, unable to control herself.

The bruises, scratches, smattering of blood, bite marks… Janet struggled to keep calm. Yes, in her time as a doctor she had seen all manner of injuries, but never had she been forced to face… and certainly not one of her friends.

"Sam, honey," she whispered gently, stroking her hair as she leant over her. "I'm gonna have to do a few tests. You understand that, right?"

Janet waited, looking down at her friend with maternal concern. She wasn't going to do anything without a response, Sam had been violated enough tonight, this had to be her decision. She brushed a gloved hand through her hair again and felt Sam shudder beneath her.

"Please, Janet," Sam begged quietly. "I can't."

"Yes, you can," the doctor encouraged. "You're being really brave. I need to check you out, make sure he hasn't done any physical damage. It'll all be over soon, I promise."

She watched with tears forming in her eyes as Sam weakly nodded her consent. Janet left the cubicle silently to get the equipment needed for the evidence collection examination, the infamous rape kit. She had never had to do the exam until now, but knew exactly what procedures had to be done and how uncomfortable it was going to be for her friend.

She gathered the required things and made her way back to the cubicle, casting a glance over at O'Neill, who sat with his head in his hands. She understood exactly how he felt, but at this moment would gladly put herself in his shoes. The anguish she was about to cause…

"Ok, Sam, can you sit for me?" she asked gently, helping the blonde into an upright position. She noticed the fear in her eyes. "It's okay. All I'm going to do is brush your hair with this comb, ok?"

Janet watched the fear subside as she nodded, and started to comb her short hair gently, removing loose hairs onto a sterile, white paper sheet she had prepared. She went through slowly and meticulously, not wanting to miss a detail. A single hair could be the difference between finding this guy or not.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" she said softly, placing her hand lightly on Sam's back and rubbing her thumb across soothingly. Sam shook her head.

Janet took a breath and steadied her hands as she put the comb down, emptied the evidence on the paper into a plastic bag, and picked up a pair of tweezers. "Now I have to pluck a few hairs from different parts of your head, just to run comparisons. See how many of those other ones were your hairs."

She took the tweezers and teased out a few samples, just as she had told Sam. She placed them carefully into a second plastic bag, labelled "B". Once finished, she returned the bag to the small trolley she was using for her equipment and used a wipe to sterilize her tweezers. She picked up a second comb.

"Ok, Sam," she said gently. "You can lie down again now. I'm going to do the same thing again now, but with the pubic area. Ok?"

She winced as she saw Sam's eyes widen and her legs clamp together. She knew this wasn't going to be easy, and the worst was still to come. But she had to do this.

"Sam, please," she said. "I promise I'll be gentle. Let me try. You can tell me to stop at any time, you know."

She breathed a sigh of relief as Sam relaxed and lay her head back, shutting her eyes. Janet knew how humiliating this must be, how uncomfortable, but it had to be done. She needed to get all the evidence she could, every last drop. She was going to see to it that this beast paid for what he did to Sam. Anger surged through her.

"Ow!" yelped Sam, pulling Janet back to the present. She realised that she had tugged too hard with the comb.

She stood, holding the roots of the hairs with one hand and pulling the comb through the tangled and matted curls with the other, the dried blood from her injuries hindering the process. She treated it like the knotted hair of a child, holding it to prevent it snagging and hurting Sam. Loose hairs fell onto the paper below her and Janet scooped them up and into a third plastic bag. She felt Sam flinch as she moved between her legs, to brush the hairs around the vaginal area. She knew it was uncomfortable, but again, she didn't want to miss any evidence.

"You're doing great, Sam," she smiled, feeling guilty for putting her friend through this as she cleared the evidence into the bag. "These samples are going to get that bastard locked up for a long time."

She took the tweezers and tried to pluck the hairs as gently as she could. It was no use, it was going to sting whatever happened. She pulled a few out from the front pubic area and placed them in a bag, then took samples from the more sensitive area between her legs. Janet grimaced as she saw the stray tear running down Sam's face, unsure whether it was caused by physical pain or humiliation. She suddenly felt glad that the procedure involved combing before collecting samples. The pain could have been a lot worse.

She put the evidence bags and the tweezers back on the trolley and leant over to give Sam a tight hug. The blonde sat up and leant into the hug, not returning it. Janet clasped her tightly, trying not to cause too much pain to her already bruised and battered body. Technically she knew the swabs were next, but she couldn't do that yet, she would leave that til last. That way Sam could escape.

"Ok, time for a manicure," quipped Janet, drawing back and picking up the small scraper and nail clippers. She returned the wane smile she received from Sam.

She perched on the trolley next to Sam as she started to scratch under her long nails and placed the blood caked dirt into a small druggist's envelope.

"If you're gonna have long nails, at least keep them clean, Sam," she chided jokingly, knowing that the dirt was likely to be skin she'd managed to claw off her attacker.

She pulled Sam's other hand and did the same thing, feeling her relax at the unobtrusive form of examination. She then picked up the clippers and trimmed Sam's nails, keeping the clippings in a separate bag for evidence.

"There we go," she said, placing the equipment back on the trolley. She wondered how to tackle the next step without sending the blonde into panic. "Right, I just need a couple of blood samples," she said, deciding that coming straight out with it was the best option.

Sam's eyes flashed open. "Blood? Why? But…"

"It's just a routine measure," comforted Janet. She knew it was for HIV tests, to examine for infections and so on, but telling Sam that would cause unnecessary panic. She had barely come to terms with the fact that she had been attacked, let alone the idea that she could have long term, incurable diseases. Thank goodness that all female field officers were on long term contraception. It meant one less thing for her to worry about.

Janet strapped the torque around her friend's arm and tightened it, causing the veins in the tender underside of her arm to fill and bulge. She took off her gloves and tapped the veins lightly, causing more blood to rush there. She decided to use a syringe as opposed to a vacuum bag, it was quicker, less painful.

She quickly and deftly unwrapped the syringe from its packet, and a small green tipped needle, which she inserted into the syringe. She dabbed a disinfectant-soaked wipe over the tender area on the inside of her elbow and unsheathed the plastic casing protecting the sharp.

Sam sat patiently as Janet swiftly inserted the needle and drew out the necessary sample. She was grateful that Sam was not squeamish with the blood tests. Once she withdrew, and taped a cotton ball tightly to the puncture wound, to avoid blood loss, she turned and emptied her sample into two small phials. She placed these into plastic bags with large paper forms attached, stating what they were to be tested for.

Janet looked down at her trolley, at what she still had to do. She snapped on a fresh pair of gloves, then paused and looked up, inadvertently meeting Sam's eyes.

"No," whispered Sam. "No… not that."

"Let's start with an oral swab, shall we?" asked Janet, avoiding the issue, hoping that gentle assertiveness would persuade Sam.

She unwrapped a swab, smiling at how much it looked like a disfigured cotton bud, and moved towards Sam who grudgingly opened her mouth. She took a scraping from the gum area, the outside of the teeth, where her lips were still flecked with blood. His blood, presumably. The second swab she took from further back, under her tongue.

"You're being really brave, Sam," she told the blonde gently. "A couple of minutes and it will all be over, I promise."

Sam's eyes widened as she watched Janet open the next swab.

"Sam, can you lie down for me, and bend your knees?" She applied a gently pressure on Sam. Not forcing her back, but just encouraging. She felt her friend start to shake violently. She swallowed, her constricted throat making it difficult, and closed her eyes. She couldn't force Sam into this, but she was desperate to have every piece of evidence she could, to corner the attacker. Plus she needed to know that Sam was alright.

"Please Sam," she said, her voice cracked. "Do this for me. I want to know there's nothing wrong with you. You never know what damage he's caused. Please. For me."

Sam fell back, but was still trembling all over. Janet heard her breath become ragged and had to hold one leg still so that she could insert the swab. Sam tensed around her as she inserted, then broke, falling back, the tension gone and now convulsing with the tears she'd tried to hide inside. She quickly finished scraping the cells from around her cervix and put the swab into its bag, turning to Sam who was now in floods of tears.

"That's alright, it's ok," she cradled the blonde in her arms, who was now trembling and shaking all over. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have forced you, Sam."

"No more," croaked Sam in between her rapid, shallow breaths and sobs. "Please, Janet, no more."

Janet frowned as she held her friend. "I really should do an anal swab, Sam. Please."

"He didn't… I mean… I don't think… Please, I can't. I really can't."

The doctor's heart bled as she rocked Sam gently in her arms. She couldn't believe what she had just put her through, what she still had to go through. This was Sam, how could she do this? How could anyone put her through this?

"Sam, honey," she said gently, pulling away slightly and holding her by the arms. "I need you to take some antibiotics for me. Just in case. That's it. I won't do anything else to you. You can put on these fatigues I brought up for you and go to your quarters."

She watched as Sam pulled a face. It was unreadable. Concern, worry, fear, anguish, confusion? Janet couldn't tell.

"I… can I stay here?" she asked timidly. "With you?"

Janet nodded silently, and drew her back into a tight hug.


	5. Examination Sam

Sam felt the truck pull to a stop. Her mind was still fuzzy with all the thoughts swirling around her head. She didn't want to be here, she couldn't face Janet. She resolved to keep her eyes shut. It might not fool Janet, but at least she'd have the sense not to force her into talking.

She felt the Colonel's muscular arms lift her effortlessly and carry her away, brushing against airmen on base. Her body tensed involuntarily.

"What happened?" she heard Janet ask.

The silence with the whispered reprise of the question was enough for Sam to realise how bad she must look. Nothing shocked Janet. She felt guilty for putting her friends through this. She wasn't worthy of this sort of concern, and they certainly didn't deserve to be put through the wringer like this. She wished she had stood up to the Colonel a little more.

She kept her eyes shut as they entered the elevator, feeling the small box moving steadily downwards. It was hard enough trying to deal with her own emotions, the thought of what she would see in her friends' eyes was overwhelming.

Eventually she felt herself being laid on the fresh, crinkly paper on one of the trolleys. She gritted her teeth and clenched her eyes tighter together as she felt and heard the movements beside her, resisting the temptation to open her eyes, the need to see what was going on around her, who was around her. She felt vulnerable with her eyes shut, like anyone could attack at any moment, but it was better than the alternative. Maybe Janet would leave her in peace.

Sam heard the curtain being drawn around the cubicle and latex gloves being snapped onto the doctor's small, delicate hands. She flinched nervously as Janet peeled back the duvet, restraining herself from slapping her hand away and bolting. She didn't want Janet to see her like that, see how much she was hurting.

As the cover was peeled away, Sam felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. Lying there naked, bruised and battered in front of her best friend was one of the most humiliating experiences of her life. And Janet's gasp of horror didn't make it any easier.

She wanted to reach out to her friend, tell her that everything was alright, that she wasn't hurt, that she had just been stupid and it was her own fault. She knew it wasn't true, not strictly, but anything to save her friend's worry and concern. She could almost sense Janet trying to calm herself, and heard the shaking in her voice as she spoke.

"Sam, honey," she heard Janet whisper gently, as a hand stroked her hair. "I'm gonna have to do a few tests. You understand that, right?"

Sam bit back the tears and shuddered involuntarily. A few tests. She knew what that meant. Swabs, intimate contact. She didn't want anyone touching her body, no one. She couldn't cope. Her body was too sore, her mind was too sore. She opened her eyes and gazed at Janet, the tears blurring her view.

"Please, Janet," she begged quietly. "I can't."

"Yes, you can," the doctor encouraged. "You're being really brave. I need to check you out, make sure he hasn't done any physical damage. It'll all be over soon, I promise."

She heard Janet's trembling voice and understood that she was hurting almost as much as she was. She didn't want to admit it, but Janet was right. She needed to have the tests done, to check her physical health. She was just terrified of what they might reveal.

Nodding weakly, appreciating that Janet had at least given her a choice, she watched the small redhead leave the cubicle. A wave of panic washed over her as she was left alone, naked and fragile. She trembled, waiting for her return, breathing deeply when she did, a limited sense of relief calming her slightly.

"Ok, Sam, can you sit for me?" Janet asked, as Sam felt a gentle hand helping her into an upright position.

Sam looked at the various instruments on the trolley and her body filled with tension. Janet must have noticed this, as Sam heard her soothing voice speak to her.

"It's okay. All I'm going to do is brush your hair with this comb, ok?"

She nodded, the tension and fear subsiding slightly. She was just going to have her hair brushed. No big deal. She could cope with that. She watched Janet with wide eyes, checking that she was keeping to her word, only picking up a comb.

She relaxed a little as Janet began to tug the comb gently and meticulously through her hair. Somehow it was therapeutic, not what she had expected at all. She felt Janet's soothing touch and heard her soft voice nearby. A few samples of her hair were all she wanted. She barely felt it being plucked.

"Ok, Sam," Janet told her. "You can lie down again now. I'm going to do the same thing again now, but with the pubic area. Ok?"

Sam's eyes widened and she clamped her legs tightly together. There was no way she was letting anyone touch her there, and no way she was going to let her best friend… did Janet not realise how humiliating this was? It was too intimate, and, worse, she was still sore from… stuff. She didn't want to, she couldn't.

"Sam, please," Janet said. "I promise I'll be gentle. Let me try. You can tell me to stop at any time, you know."

Sam battled with herself. She was sore and aching all over, emotionally as well as physically. What that beast had done to her… she couldn't face it, she couldn't be touched. But surely, surely being afraid, nervous, not allowing Janet to gather evidence, surely that was letting him win. She couldn't do that, she wouldn't let him. She'd just have to grit her teeth and let Janet do her job.

She closed her eyes and set her jaw, ready for the humiliation to begin. Her fists were clenched, she was trying so hard to resist the temptation to run. She just wanted to get away. Anywhere but there.

"Ow!" she yelped, as Janet yanked the comb through her matted curls.

It was painful and salty tears seeped through Sam's eyelashes. The combination of blood and semen caked the mass of hair together, making it painful to comb. She was relieved when Janet began to move more slowly, treating the patch like the hair of a child, trying not to snag it. It was still painful, though, as the hair was pulled from the tender and bruised flesh.

Sam flinched slightly as Janet parted her legs, to brush the hair around her vaginal area. She gritted her teeth harder and squeezed her eyes shut. She had to do this.

"You're doing great, Sam," she heard her friend say. "These samples are going to get that bastard locked up for a long time."

She felt hairs being plucked from her and bit her lip, resisting the urge to yelp. She was a military officer. She had to remember that. It stung like hell, though, especially as she was so sore and bruised. Her knuckles turned white as Janet moved between her legs again, this was the most humiliating experience of her life. She may have been through worse physical pain, but never… A tear fell down her flushed face.

The plucking stopped and Sam opened her eyes slightly, like a child peering from behind the sofa after a scary movie.

"Ok, time for a manicure," quipped Janet, drawing back and picking up the small scraper and nail clippers. Sam smiled at her, exhausted and emotionally drained.

She sat up and relaxed as Janet began to scratch the dirt and blood from under her nails. She was glad for the unobtrusive and relaxed collection method. She didn't think she could cope with any more poking and prodding, Air Force or not. They certainly hadn't covered this stuff at the Academy. She listened calmly as Janet joked. She knew how difficult this must be for her friend, she felt guilty for having put her in such an awkward position.

"There we go," Janet said, placing the equipment back on the trolley. "Right, I just need a couple of blood samples," she said.

Sam's eyes flashed open. "Blood? Why? But…"

She couldn't be pregnant, she was on long term contraception, like all field officers. But no contraception was 100 reliable. Is that what the blood was for, could she be…? And what if she had contracted HIV or some other disease… her life, her career could be ruined.

"It's just a routine measure," comforted Janet.

Sam felt the torque being tightened around her arm, and her veins being tapped. Needles didn't bother her, it was just part of the job. She sat patiently, waiting for Janet to finish, her mind fuzzy from all the thoughts and worries coursing through it.

As she heard the snap of latex gloves, Sam spun round and met Janet's eyes. She saw the guilt there and realised what she was about to do.

"No," whispered Sam. "No… not that."

"Let's start with an oral swab, shall we?" asked Janet.

Sam watched as Janet unwrapped a swab. It was strange how much it looked like a cotton bud. As Janet moved towards her, she realised she was still clenching her teeth together. She wasn't going to get a sample like that. She opened her mouth tentatively and sat as Janet took a sample from around her teeth, the bud squeaky and strange in her mouth. The second swab was taken from further back, under her tongue. Sam gagged as she remembered how he tangled his tongue with hers.

"You're being really brave, Sam," Janet told the blonde gently. "A couple of minutes and it will all be over, I promise."

Sam's eyes widened as she watched Janet open the next swab. She knew what was coming and she couldn't do it. The same thoughts ran through her head…. She must be brave, she was a military officer, she's been through worse, but she couldn't help it. The thoughts started to swirl around her head and panic set in.

"Sam, can you lie down for me, and bend your knees?"

The blonde felt herself pushed back gently by her friend as her mind clouded over. Her body began to tremble and her breathing became fast and shallow. She couldn't do this, she couldn't be touched, not down there, not again, not after…

"Please Sam," she her Janet say through the panic, her voice cracked. "Do this for me. I want to know there's nothing wrong with you. You never know what damage he's caused. Please. For me."

Sam fell back, but was still trembling all over. Her breath was still ragged and the thoughts in her head racing. She felt Janet holding one of her legs steady and braced herself, tensed for what was to come. She couldn't do this, she didn't want to do this.

A fleeting image entered her head, his face as his came inside her, his sweat dripping, mouth hung open in ecstasy. She wanted to say no, but she couldn't move, couldn't speak, her body was shaking uncontrollably.

Then she felt it.

Sam broke. She had wanted to say no, she didn't was Janet to do it, could she not tell? She felt violated, betrayed, betrayed by her best friend. She shuddered and began to cry.

She barely realised that Janet had taken her in her arms and was rocking her like a baby. She didn't hear Janet's words of comfort. All she knew was that she was in pain, that she didn't want to move from here, she didn't want to be left on her own again. She couldn't be left on her own again.

"No more," croaked Sam in between her rapid, shallow breaths and sobs. "Please, Janet, no more."

"I really should do an anal swab, Sam. Please."

The thoughts came crashing around her again as she recalled what had happened. She saw his face, what he did to her. It was as clear as if he was there. Right there.

But then she remembered the bruising. He had obviously continued after she… Oh God. He hadn't. Please. He can't have. Can he?

"He didn't… I mean… I don't think… Please, I can't. I really can't."

Sam realised with sudden horror that she had no idea what he had done to her. Images played in her mind of the possibilities, as it dawned on her the extent of what he might have done.

Sam heard Janet tell her to go to her quarters. She couldn't do it, couldn't go. She didn't want to be alone, especially not with strange Airmen guarding her door. She didn't know what to do. She couldn't go home, couldn't stay on her own. All she knew was she didn't want to leave Janet's arms.

"I… can I stay here?" she asked timidly. "With you?"

Janet nodded silently, and Sam collapsed back into her chest.


	6. Examination Jack

Jack pulled up in the tunnel and quickly hopped out of the truck, leaving his keys in the ignition. He ran round to the door and opened it, fear and concern in his eyes. Carefully, he lifted her in his arms, making sure to keep her well covered.

He couldn't read Sam's expression, but could feel her tense in his arms. He knew Sam would hate him for this, but making sure she was okay was more important right now. He'd happily take the beating at a later date if he could make sure she hadn't been injured internally, that she'd be fine, that the bastard who did this to her would be caught and punished.

Jack listened to the Doc's questions, he could see the fear in her eyes, but he didn't reply. He couldn't find the words. Not that he could ever find the right words, but this time. Carter, Carter had been…

She asked again and he shot her a look, hoping that she would understand what had happened, hoping that he wouldn't have to answer.

Jack walked straight past the stretcher and into the elevator with Janet trailing behind. He didn't want to talk, there was nothing to say. The only thing that mattered was getting Sam to the infirmary so she could get the care and attention she needed.

He hated being trapped in the elevator, he always had. Trapped with his thoughts, trapped in his own skull, and right now they weren't thoughts he wanted to be trapped with. Sam Carter, unconscious, naked, vulnerable… it wasn't right, it wasn't fair…

Jack felt himself laying Carter down on one of the trolleys in the infirmary. He barely remembered getting there; his body had switched onto autopilot. He stood watching, waiting for Janet to make it all better, like she always did. Jack felt her moving him away, guiding him to a chair.

Something in his mind told him to argue, to stay next to his 2IC, but he couldn't find the words, couldn't escape the circle of thoughts swirling in his head. His body gave in and let itself be guided by the petite doctor, guided to sit on the other side of the infirmary, all alone with his thoughts.

Jack hung his head and closed his eyes, allowing the guilt to wash over him as he replayed the evening's events in his head.

He should have walked her home; it wouldn't have happened if he'd been with her. He heard his own voice echoing back that Carter wouldn't have let him. 'But I should have forced the issue,' he screamed internally, hating himself for the mistake that had cost his colleague so much.

Small whimper sounded from behind the curtain and Jack raised his head, startled at the noise. He hadn't realised, hadn't even considered the humiliation this visit would cause Carter and suddenly he doubted his decision. They could have still gathered evidence in the morning, several days down the line. Why had he dragged her in now, when he knew that she didn't want to? Not only was the attack his fault, but he was going to lose one of his closest friends because of sheer idiocy and insensitivity.

He couldn't take it any longer, he couldn't sit there and listen to Sam being mentally tortured behind the curtain. He felt like tearing the Doc limb from limb, just for making her produce those sounds. No. It wasn't the Doctor he needed to beat, it was that man, that thing that attacked her.

Jack stood and stormed out of the infirmary, periodically slamming his fists against the tunnel walls as he made his way to the gym to vent his anger.

As he arrived in the gym, Jack didn't stop to strap up his hands, didn't stop to don a pair of gloves, he moved straight to the heavy punch bag, weighted down to make it harder on the knuckles. Out of sheer anger and frustration, he slammed his fist into the bag, ignoring the pain.

The image of her pale body, marked with bruises and blood drew out more punches from the angry Colonel. He didn't know what to do, he felt helpless. Give him a name, a face, he'd go to the ends of the earth to shoot this man, to make him pay for what he did, but here he was, not a thing he could do, and he had probably hurt the one person he was trying to help.

Helpless. The word frustrated him. He was in the Air Force to protect his country, protect his planet, yet he couldn't protect those he was closest to. On a distant planet he was so aware of danger, danger that could be waiting at any turn, but here, on Earth…. He hadn't thought, hadn't considered for a moment.

O'Neill stopped slamming the bag and sank to the floor. The aggressive swings had earned him a set of scraped and bleeding knuckles. But that didn't matter right now. The only thing that mattered was finding that…. that….

But how had it happened? Teal'c had been right; Carter was a soldier, and a damn good one. He'd seen her take them out over the years, men far bigger than her, men who were armed. How could any normal man off the street take her down?

A surge of anger washed over him as the question was answered in his mind. She had been knocked out, the spineless son of a…. he couldn't face her, he wouldn't risk it, so he took her out from behind. Jack swung out at the bag again, yelling in frustration.


	7. Long Night Janet

Janet Frasier stifled a yawn. After she had performed the examination on Sam and persuaded the blonde to take a sedative (not an easy task in the hysterical state she was in) the previous night, she had sat down to attempt some paperwork.

But Janet couldn't concentrate on the task at hand and her mind drifted to what had happened to her friend. The panicked expression on the woman's face ate away at her. She had seen Sam beaten, seen her emotionally drained and upset, but the fear… she wished there was something she could do. And despite the initial trauma, the night had turned out to be long and fairly uneventful, giving the doctor more time to stew, more time to feel ashamed and guilty for not being able to stop it, for not being there for her best friend.

Later on in the evening, as Sam had been deep in her dreamless sleep, SG7 had arrived in for their standard post mission check up. Nothing exciting, Howard had a sprained wrist and Dobson looked like he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards, but no breaks, viruses or alien infestations.

Janet sighed. She still couldn't understand quite why Sam had kicked up a stink about those sleeping pills. She knew her friend hated medication, saw dependency on drugs as a weakness, but this was different. The doctor had assumed that she would be grateful for the medication, something to help her get some rest.

Had she done the wrong thing by forcing the drugs upon her? After everything she had been through, surely it was control Sam needed. By getting her to take the pills, she had been taking that control away again and she couldn't bear to hurt her again like she had with the swabs.

She grimaced as she skim read the report she had been working on. There was something unnerving about Sam Carter being raped like that. Not just attacked, but raped in her own home. If it could happen to her, then it could happen to anyone. Everyone knew what a seasoned and skilled officer she was. If she could be caught off guard…

Janet let the report drop softly onto the desk and held her head in her hands. What the hell was she meant to do? On the one hand, she was meant to play the good doctor, following procedures, doing the tests, pestering her to get counselling and telling Hammond what had happened. But this wasn't any patient, it was Sam. It damn near broke her heart to do that rape kit, seeing her friend so vulnerable like that. And she didn't want to force Sam into anything right now, she'd been forced enough. As for Hammond… was that not betrayal? But if she didn't do it, she was neglecting her job as a doctor.

Tears began to trickle down her face as she got stuck in the tangled arguments cluttering her mind. She couldn't see a way out of all this, and worst of all, she was being so damn selfish thinking of her own dilemmas. What about Sam? There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say that could make it better. It wasn't fair. She had become a doctor so she could sort things out, make things better, reassure people with conviction. Not so she could perform humiliating examinations on her friend after she had been attacked.

Hearing a rustling, Janet rose from her desk and hastily dried her eyes. She moved into the main body of the infirmary to see Sam groggily tying her bootlaces as she propped herself against the wall.

"Sam, honey, are you sure…"

"I'm fine," Sam retorted.

Janet shot her a concerned look as the blonde started towards the door. She didn't want her friend to leave, didn't want her to be alone right now. She couldn't tell how Sam was feeling, but right now all she wanted was to keep Sam in her sights, make sure that she was okay, that no more harm could come to her. And besides, she was bruised all over, probably still half asleep from the medication, and was she really in a fit state emotionally to leave the infirmary?

"Sam," chided Janet gently, trying not to lay on too much pressure, "I really think you ought to stay here. At least for a little while."

The cold stare she received in response was in stark contrast to the crying woman she had cradled in her arms the night before. The doctor was too taken aback to argue.

"I have work to do," the major said in addition to the glare. "A few bumps and bruises never stopped me before. And besides, my reports can't wait much longer. Hammond has been waiting for weeks."

The petite redhead watched, lost and wounded, as Colonel O'Neill entered the infirmary making Sam visibly jump. She couldn't hear the brief conversation, but looked on in concern as her friend hurtled out of the infirmary as fast as she could.

"Someone's in a hurry," the Colonel remarked as he headed towards Janet.

Janet nodded distractedly, still worrying about the blonde. "Busy, apparently."

"How is she?"

"I don't know," mused the doctor quietly. "She got a good night's sleep at least, which is more than can be said for you."

Judging by the uncomfortable silence that ensued, and the way he picked up a pair of tweezers to fiddle with, Janet knew she had hit the nail on the head. She rubbed his arm gently, but her mind was elsewhere.

She felt relieved when O'Neill dropped the tweezers and left without a word. She didn't want to turn him away, but there was enough going on in her own exhausted mind.

Janet yawned again, but given the night's events, she knew she wouldn't get any sleep, wouldn't be  
able to stop the worry and the mental images that were so vividly depicted in her mind. She shut her eyes briefly, then, wearily, she walked over to the shelf where the medication was kept, scanned along until she found the same pills she had given Sam. She picked up the small, plastic container and opened it, swallowing two of the small round tablets.

The petite doctor ran a hand through her red hair and looked down at the bottle. Such a small object, but an object that reminded her of the reason for the medication and why she was in that mess. She leant her forehead against the wall and began to cry.


	8. Long Night Jack

Jack finally sat down on the bed, twisting the end of a pen, unable to keep himself from fidgeting. His night had been a restless one, first aggression in the gym, followed by pacing, then by food (which he hadn't been able to eat), followed by more pacing, then some paperwork, followed by pacing….

He found it odd and somehow bitterly funny how he became so involved with his reports and files when something went wrong. It was a convenient way to bury his emotions, hide from what was really going on.

But last night he couldn't hide from the guilt that was relentlessly wrenching at his gut. Carter being attacked was his fault, his fault for letting her go home alone, for being so blasé about personal safety. He should have known better.

And exactly what was he thinking, when he brought Carter into the infirmary? She said she didn't want to go, said that she couldn't take it, and he'd gone against her wishes. He'd taken away that control… he was as bad as the man that raped her.

Jack jumped to his feet and slammed his fist against the wall, breaking the fragile scabbed skin on his already grazed knuckles. He had been physically and emotionally punishing himself throughout the night and was drained.

But every time he tried to shut his eyes, every time he tried to sit in stillness and quiet, visions of his 2IC naked and tortured filled his mind. He couldn't say he'd never wanted to see Carter sans clothes but this… 'Just be careful what you wish for,' he told himself wryly.

Looking at his watch, he realised it was 0657. Perfect. If he left now, he could get to the infirmary for 0700 and Frasier couldn't kick him out.

Jack tore out of his quarters, nearly colliding with an Airman on his way. He jogged through the corridors, not with too much urgency, but he still wanted to make sure Carter was okay. He felt like he had abandoned her last night, leaving her alone in the infirmary but he just couldn't bring himself to sit there and listen to her suffering.

Taking the stairs two at a time, his mind wandered to the night before, how easily the blonde had give in, how she'd lain in his arms as he carried her to his truck. It was so unlike her not to put up a fight, so unlike her to back down so easily. Carter without that spirit was just… off. But he knew that this is how things were going to be from now on.

The minute Jack walked through the infirmary door, he realised that he had miscalculated. Carter didn't seem to be affected at all, in fact, she seemed as tense and work focused as ever.

"Goooooood morning, Major," he chirped, trying to sound confident and happy.

He flinched as he saw her look straight past him, through the doorway, not meeting his gaze. He kicked himself. Of course she was angry with him for last night, he should have realised.

"Sorry, Sir, I have work to do," she told him.

Jack shifted slightly. "Carter, if you want to talk…."

"Busy," she said, eyebrows raised and her mouth stretched in an exasperated 'let me through' grimace.

"Right. Busy." Jack let her past, wondering how could she be so nonchalant about it all, get on with her life as if nothing had happened? Even if she didn't need to talk, he did.

The Colonel was disgusted with himself for even thinking such a thing. There was Carter, having been attacked, and all he could think about was himself. And if she could pull through like that without a problem, then he could get through it too.

Ah, heck, who was he fooling?

He walked over to Frasier, trying his hardest to appear casual, uncaring, trying to muster all the professionalism inside, appear as if it was just any officer, as if there was nothing more to it. Of course Janet knew different. She had been there that time, the time they had to… but they never mentioned it. Not in public, not in private, not ever. Carter was out of bounds.

"Someone's in a hurry," he remarked, sauntering over to the redhead

Jack saw her nod and realised that she was as worried as he was.

"Busy, apparently," she muttered distractedly, parroting the Major's own phrase.

He leant against a trolley and stuck his hands in his pockets, to force himself not to toy with the first thing that his hands could find.

"How is she?"

"I don't know," the doctor said quietly. "She got a good night's sleep at least, which is more than can be said for you."

Jack flinched slightly. Frasier had a way of guessing the truth, and these days she could read him like a book. Instead of answering, his hands found their way unbidden out of his pockets to play with a pair of tweezers that lay on the side.

It wasn't that he wanted to hide the fact from the redhead, more that he didn't know how to articulate the reasoning behind it. He didn't want to sound petty and childish, but he needed to talk to someone. The guilt was eating away at him.

He felt her rubbing gently at his arm, but he knew her heart wasn't in it. This was Carter's best friend, for crying out loud! She had enough on her plate without putting up with him too.

The Colonel left without saying another word, wandering aimlessly down the corridors. He felt trapped, isolated. Carter didn't have a problem with it, Frasier had her own crap, and he couldn't tell anyone else without betraying confidences.

Jack slammed his fist against the wall in frustration, willing himself to pull it together.


	9. Long Night Sam

Sam groggily opened her eyes and tried to sit; wincing at the pain it induced in her abdomen and on her arms. She frowned as she forced her mind to focus on the cause of the injuries, and the reason for her being….

Averting her gaze, she forced her eyes back shut as the images of the night's events flitted in front of them like random stills from a film. A face, a body, a hard erection pressed inside her, tearing at her flesh.

She fought back the gag reflex in the back of her throat and hurriedly stumbled out of bed. As she remembered Janet's humiliating examination, hairs plucked from her body and swabs that grazed her already tender and sore body, she realised that she couldn't stay there, couldn't stay trapped with her own thoughts and imagination.

Sam quickly pulled on a spare pair of the infirmary pyjamas, no fatigues or BDUs at hand. She needed to get out of here, find something to do, something that focused her mind so she didn't have time to drift.

"Sam, honey, are you sure…"

The blonde jumped at the unexpected sound and looked up to see Janet Frasier looking troubled. She had wanted to sneak out without disturbing the doctor, she knew how fiercely protective she could be and didn't want to cause any problems.

But then again, she had already caused problems, she thought, a wave of guilt crashing over her as she thought of what Janet must be going through. It wasn't fair of her to put these stresses on her best friend, when she had issues of her own to deal with.

"I'm fine," Sam retorted. She felt uncomfortable at how harsh her voice had sounded, but she didn't want to argue, she just wanted out.

"Sam," her friend continued insistently, "I really think you ought to stay here. At least for a little while."

The pressure she was laying on made the Major bristle slightly. How could Janet not understand that she wanted to get out of here? After everything she had been forced to go through….

"I have work to do," she said, glaring at the redhead. "A few bumps and bruises never stopped me before. And besides, my reports can't wait much longer. Hammond has been waiting for weeks."

She finished lacing her boots with a violent tug, far stronger than was necessary, before striding to the door, attempting to exude calm and confidence.

"Goooooood morning, Major," chirped a voice, sending Sam rocketing skyward once more.

So much for calm and confident.

She flashed a glance at him, then looked towards the door. She really needed to get out of here as quick as possible. She couldn't face him, not now, not after he had seen her naked like that. Naked and vulnerable and overreacting.

Yes, she had overreacted. When she thought about it logically, all it was, was sex. Yes, it was rough sex, but it wasn't like she'd never experience a bit of that before. So why was she acting like such an idiot?

Sam shifted uncomfortably, trying to work out how to get out of there without offending anyone. Her best bet was the usual excuse.

"Sorry, Sir, I have work to do," she told him, a semi truth. She did have work to do, a lot of it in fact, but in reality, it wouldn't hurt to let it sit a few more hours.

Her CO shifted slightly. "Carter, if you want to talk…."

If she wanted to talk! Colonel Jack O'Neill had no idea how to talk, not about the sensitive things, at least. He was a man of hugs, of physical comfort, not emotional and intellectual reassurance.

Physical comfort? Did he just want to get her alone so that…

Sam shook the thought from her head. This was paranoia, letting the whole thing get to her. It deeply frustrated the usually rational scientist, how logic was being discourteously thrown out of the window to be replaced by absurdities like this. Jack O'Neill would never hurt her.

But that aside, talking wasn't what she wanted to do right now. She wanted to forget it ever happened, think about something else, not dwell on the matter as if it were fodder for the base grapevine.

"Busy," she replied simply.

"Right. Busy."

As Jack moved aside to let her past, Sam felt herself release the breath she never realised she was holding. Never so grateful for the amount of people in the mountain, she quickly navigated the busy corridors down to her lab.

She opened her door and stepped inside, her heartbeat quickening as she fumbled for the light. Fear coursed through her veins as she flicked the switch on, revealing a typically empty lab. She cursed herself for her irrationality as she sat down and booted up her computer.

As she waited, she yawned and stretched, though the tensed muscles sent quivers of pain through her. She couldn't understand how the sedatives left her feeling so groggy.

The sedatives. She had been furious at Janet for making her take them. She was distrustful of medication at the best of times, and the dependency that the body had on it, but it was more than that.

She hadn't wanted to sleep. Having her eyes closed, being unconscious… it made her feel vulnerable. She remembered how she came round the night before, covered in bruises whose origins she didn't know. At least if she was conscious she could kick or fight or scream. And Janet, her best friend, had left her helpless.

Sam leant forward and pinched the bridge of her nose, before glancing up at the waiting screen.


	10. In The Lab Daniel

Daniel scurried down the corridor clutching a pile of papers he had hurriedly grabbed from his desk. He had just returned from a four day mission with SG-22 which had turned out to be fairly pointless. It wasn't that he disliked missions; it was just that he'd rather be working on these translations. They didn't magically appear in English by themselves and he preferred to do the work in person, enabling him to build up a relationship with the texts; discovering and keeping track of the subtle nuances, the double entendres and hidden connotations that were so often glossed over, that in this job could mean the difference between life and –

"Sorry Doctor Jackson."

The archaeologist looked up from his new found position on the floor to see one of Sam's scientists scuttling into the distance. He smiled internally at the real life metaphor; how science was always hurtling into the future, trampling history and paying as little regard as possible. It was ironic, then, how the two worlds were forced to work so closely here at Stargate Command.

"Daniel Jackson," stated a passive, deep voice. "Do you require assistance?"

Daniel raised his eyes to the large Jaffa, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Hey, Teal'c," he greeted, taking the proffered hand and using it to lever himself to his feet before bending over to collect the scattered papers. The man frowned slightly as he saw boot prints on several pages, but quickly continued to gather them up.

"Do you wish to join me in procuring some food?" asked the alien.

"No thanks," replied Jackson, straightening up. "I need to show these to Sam. They might help her work that device we found on P3R-759."

Teal'c bowed his head in acknowledgment, tightening his lips into what could almost be described as a smile. After a moment's wide-eyed hesitation, anticipating some form of further interaction, Daniel hurried along the corridor towards Sam's lab.

Finding the door open, Daniel hovered, watching his friend flitting about her workspace. There was something he couldn't put his finger on about the way she moved, the way she was working, somehow more… Gung-ho than usual.

"Put it on the table, Daniel," she said.

Daniel jumped, how did she know he was there? She wasn't usually so aware of her surroundings when working. In fact, completely the opposite. Like him, once immersed in work, it practically took an earthquake to distract her.

"Hey Sam," Daniel greeted gently, a softness in his voice, acknowledgment of the slight irregularity in her behaviour. "You seem to be onto something there."

Sam nodded without looking up, without stopping. "Yeah, just working on this device from P3R-759. I'm a long way off, but I've just found the power source, and if I can figure out how to bypass the circuitry…"

"You might not need to," the archaeologist said, moving into the room. "I've just finished the translations. I wanted to go over them with you in person, but if you're…. Sam?"

He had noticed her flinch and tense up slightly as he stepped inside the doorway. He blinked slightly, he had never expected this reaction from her.

Daniel stepped back and closed the door for a little privacy.

"Sam?"

He noticed that she was now stood bolt upright, clenching a spanner in her hand so tight that it was cutting her circulation, her fingertips purple with the lingering blood. Daniel knew that look, she was trying to maintain a calm exterior, but her eyes gave it away, she looked like a deer trapped in the headlights.

"Sam?"

"I'm busy Daniel," she replied, sounding slightly choked. "I'll have a look later."

Daniel tried to edge towards her, but noticed how she matched his steps by backing away. He sighed and returned to the door, leaning against it slightly and wondering what was going on.

"Sam," he said, folding his arms, "What's going on? Jack told me you've been holed up in here for days."

He watched her with concern. She didn't seem to be relaxing, breaking, there seemed to be no emotion there, like she was blocking him out. He hated seeing her like this, but didn't want to stress her out by moving towards her, it seemed she was touch-shy today.

"I'm…"

"…Busy," finished Daniel with a sigh. He dropped the pile of papers to the floor and reached a hand behind him to open the door. "If you need someone to talk to…"

He shrugged and flapped his arms before leaving, hearing the door bolted firmly shut behind him. He started for the infirmary; if he couldn't get through to her, perhaps Janet could.

"Daniel," slurred a familiar voice. "And what might you be doing, skulking around the labs at this time of night?"

"Says the guy with a life threatening allergy to all things scientific," retorted Daniel before stuffing his hands in his pockets. "So… Jack."

He watched as Jack raised his eyebrows. "Daniel?"

"What… what are you down here for, Jack?" asked Daniel

"Just checking up on our resident genius down there," shrugged the older man.

Daniel frowned. "I just did. She's…"

"Busy," finished Jack. "I figured as much."

"You did?" Daniel was taken aback by this. He never got the impression that there was much going on in his friend's head; that he took everything at face value. Once again he had been proven wrong, had been shown that there was more to Jack O'Neill than met the eye.

Jack nodded, his eyebrows raised in amusement. "Later, Daniel."

"Jack, wait!" called Daniel, catching Jack by the arm as he moved past. "You know what's going on don't you?"

He watched the man sigh and run a hand over his face, visibly sagging under the strain. Jack slumped against the side of the tunnel, putting his hands in his pockets, propping himself on one leg, the other knee bent so that the foot was against the wall. He was staring at the ground.

"Jack?"

The man looked up, seeming so worn and tired. "Daniel… I…" There was a pause as the two of them looked at each other. "I wish I could tell you, but it's not my place."

"Jack…"

"Not this time, Daniel," he sighed as he pushed himself away from the wall and wandered down the corridor, leaving the archaeologist alone.


	11. In The Lab Jack

Jack's Point of View. This chapter has only been beta-d by one half of my team, because Myrth has been really busy with the ATClub website. The usual thank yous go out, and I'd like to say that this one is for Gatebee, Sasha, Ms Fluffykins, MajorSam and the rest of you that have sent me emails, PMs and goodness knows what trying to get me to get my arse into gear.

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Jack O'Neill was sauntering down the corridor, his hands stuffed in his pockets. His jovial pace was in direct contrast to the feeling of trepidation that had plagued him for the past week.

He still felt a sense of guilt for Carter's attack, for not walking her home that night, for behaving irresponsibly and for then betraying her confidence by taking her to Janet. He wanted to talk to the woman, to apologise and to support her, but every time he began the journey to her lab, he turned back. She wouldn't want to see him, he'd just compound the pain. And besides, he couldn't find the words.

After her reaction in the infirmary and the way that she had been hidden from sight, working away in the labs, he figured that he was the only one not dealing with this. If she had managed to move on, maybe he shouldn't bring it up. And maybe he should move on too.

But today, just like every other day, he was finding himself once again on the trek down to her lab, hoping that this time he'd find something to say to her, and praying that she'd listen.

He looked up and saw Daniel looking worried, walking towards him in his own world. Jack crinkled his brow, realising where he must have been. Jack tried to beat down a slight pang of inadequacy as he considered the fact that Carter had confided in the younger man instead of him.

"Daniel," he purred, trying his damnedest to sound nonchalant about it all. "And what might you be doing, skulking around the labs at this time of night?"

"Says the guy with a life threatening allergy to all things scientific," the archaeologist retorted before stuffing his hands in his pockets.

'_Score one to Doctor Jackson,' _thought Jack at the man's slight snark.

"So… Jack."

O'Neill raised his eyebrows. "Daniel?"

"What… what are you down here for, Jack?" asked Daniel, looking worried.

Jack shrugged and tightened his lips into a semi smile. "Just checking up on our resident genius down there."

The archaeologist frowned. "I just did. She's…"

"Busy," finished Jack. "I figured as much."

"You did?" Daniel looked taken aback.

Jack nodded, his eyebrows raised in amusement at the way his friend seemed to assume he didn't have a clue. "Later, Daniel."

"Jack, wait!" called Daniel, catching Jack by the arm as he moved past. "You know what's going on don't you?"

Jack sighed and ran a hand over his face. He had assumed that she had told Daniel, that he knew everything that had happened. Instead of being a relief, alleviating that irrational jealousy and sense of inadequacy, it just made things awkward. It wasn't his place to tell him what had happened to Carter, whether he wanted to or not.

Jack slumped against the side of the tunnel, putting his hands in his pockets, propping himself on one leg, the other knee bent so that the foot was against the wall. He stared at the ground contemplating what he should say, how much he should tell the man who was as good as her brother.

"Jack?"

The older man looked up, worn and tired. "Daniel… I…" There was a pause as the two of them looked at each other. "Just give her some space. She'll tell you when she's ready."

"Jack…"

"Not this time, Daniel," he sighed as he pushed himself away from the wall and wandered down the corridor, towards Carter's lab.

He felt bad for alienating a mutual friend like that, but there was no way he could tell him without betraying Carter, and he had done that enough.

"Carter, open up!" called Jack as he banged on her door. It was unlike her to have the door shut, but then again, somewhat understandable after all she'd been through.

No reply. Time for plan B.

"Hey Sam," he said, opting for first names, try and butter her up. "It's Jack. Got a new doohickey for you to play with." He patted his pockets. He must have something that she could sit and toy with… he was always accidentally pocketing things from the labs.

"Ok, I haven't got a doohickey," he admitted to the steel door. "But I can get cake. I've always got cake."

The door remained closed. No sound, no sign of occupancy behind the door.

"Jello?" tried Jack in desperation. "Some nice, jiggly blue Jello… I know it's your favourite."

The man sighed, not knowing whether he wanted to scream in frustration or curl up in a ball and cry. His colleague, his friend, the woman he cared about much more than he was supposed to… she was on the other side of that door, and she was shutting him out.

"Daniel's worried about you," he said softly, no longer knowing whether he was talking to her, himself or the cold steel door. "He cares about you, you know. We all do."

Silently, he rested his forehead against the door and sighed.


	12. In The Lab Sam

Sam's point of view. Usual thanks go out to the guys. This chapter hasn't been properly beta-d because Myrth is busy, but I'm fed up of getting continuously hassled, so I thought I'd update you regardless. On a side note... **REVIEWS! **As in please give them. I really want to know what you think, feedback whore that I am. And I am not putting up the next chapter until I have the number of reviews I want. Mwahahahahahahahahahahaha. That does NOT mean that you can spam me, though. And threats and PMs and Emails... they only work up until a point.

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Sam cupped her hands round her coffee mug and took a long sip as she regarded the device on the table that she had been working on for the past six days, propelled by caffeine and the fear of sleeping.

The sense of helplessness that she had felt a week ago had been replaced by a need to work, a need to prove that she could survive this, that it was no more than a little rough sex, that it wouldn't affect her, that she was as tough as any of the men on base. A little thing like this wasn't going to stop her. She wouldn't let it.

And six days ago, the perfect decoy had landed on her desk, in the form of a strange Hallidian device from P3R-759. What it did, she had no idea, Daniel hadn't had chance to do the relevant translations as far as she knew, having been dragged off world on a mission. In fact, she was rather grateful for that fact; she wasn't sure she could have faced anyone, let alone….

Her mind wandered as she drank her coffee, wondering how much people had been told, wondering what Janet and Jack had passed on to the others. She didn't want sympathy, didn't want people to treat her like she was fragile, like she was going to break. She wasn't. She was still Sam Carter, as strong as she'd ever been.

Who was she kidding? Her shoulders slumped and she put the mug back on the workbench and ran a hand through her short tufts of hair, wondering if things would ever be the same again.

Sam shook herself out of the dark hole and walked over to the device, poring over it again. She was determined to get it working, and she knew that if she would just stop getting distracted and acting like such a little girl, she could do it. All she had to do was locate the power source, which… theoretically…was….right…. BINGO!

She ran over to her computer and brought up the window with the diagram of the device. She had to mark the location of the power source before she forgot. She grabbed the crocodile clips as she moved back to the workbench, attaching them around the sides of the power source in an attempt to short circuit the device and get it to work.

"Put it on the table, Daniel," she said without pausing or looking up. She had heard the man's distinctive footsteps coming down the corridor. It was strange how she could tell who was coming from such a little sign.

"Hey Sam," came the reply. "You seem to be on to something there."

Sam bristled at the gentleness, the sympathy in his voice, but continued to work, not even pausing to look at him. "Yeah, just working on this device from P3R-759. I'm a long way off, but I've just found the power source, and if I can figure out how to bypass the circuitry…"

"You might not need to," the archaeologist said.

Sam flinched as she saw movement in the corner of her eye. He was moving into the room. No. No, no, no, no, no. She tried to fight the slight tightening in her chest that was constricting her breathing.

"I've just finished the translations. I wanted to go over them with you in person, but if you're…. Sam?"

She looked up, her eyes filled with fear as he shut the door on her. She lost the battle against the rising panic as tears threatened to overwhelm her.

"Sam?"

Sam tried desperately to focus, her breaths becoming shallow and forced. Felt her hand going numb as she realised that it was clenched tightly over a spanner that had been lying on the workbench. She knew that if she looked down, she'd see white hands with purple tips where blood had pooled. But she wasn't looking down. She couldn't. Her eyes were locked on Daniel. She was trapped.

"Sam?"

"I'm busy Daniel," she replied, forcing her voice through the constricted chest and throat as beads of sweat formed on her forehead. "I'll have a look later."

He started to move towards her, and panic rose in Sam as she moved backwards, trying to put distance between them. She tried desperately to rationalise it. Daniel would never hurt her, he was one of her best friends, had been there through thick and thin. But she knew what he was like when the testosterone levels kicked in, she had seen him on P3X 797, and how he classed that attempted rape as normal, how he had acted when….

No. it was Daniel. She was fine.

The tightening in her chest eased slightly and she exhaled as Daniel retreated to the door. He wasn't coming near her, not yet at least. She was still tense, terrified even, but she could breathe again.

"Sam," Daniel said, folding his arms, "What's going on? Jack told me you've been holed up in here for days."

She stood rigidly, keeping her face closed, locking away any emotion that threatened to break her. She was fine, Daniel was here in the room with her, but she was fine, she was coping and she was strong. She tried to control her breathing, fight back the tears that threatened as she started to reply.

"I'm…"

"…Busy," finished Daniel with a sigh.

Sam watched as he dropped the pile of papers to the floor and reached a hand behind him to open the door. "If you need someone to talk to…"

She nodded as she watched him leave, then hurried to the door and bolted it shut behind him. She slumped against the cold metal, cursing herself for getting so worked up about it, relieved that she was on her own once more.

The blonde stood against the door, lost in thought, when she heard a voice. "Carter, open up!" She jumped away from the door as she heard the Colonel pounding on the other side, her heartbeat quickening. She knew the doors were strong, this was a nuclear facility after all, but it was unsettling all the same.

"Hey Sam. It's Jack. Got a new doohickey for you to play with."

She sighed and relaxed slightly at his friendly banter, but didn't let him in. She couldn't face him, not after Daniel. And why now? He hadn't bothered to visit her before. He had dumped her in the infirmary, when she told him she didn't want to go… then he had left. He didn't care about her.

"Ok, I haven't got a doohickey," came the voice. "But I can get cake. I've always got cake." A pause, as Sam listened silently. "Jello?" came a desperate plea. "Some nice, jiggly blue Jello… I know it's your favourite."

Sam stood listening, moving slowly back towards the door. She rested her hand on the handle and for a moment contemplated opening it. But she couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to do it. And the worst thing was, she thought to herself, she wasn't so much scared of him as she was scared of being scared. Fear of fear, fear of losing control.

"Daniel's worried about you," she heard O'Neill's voice say softly on the other side of the door. "He cares about you, you know. We all do."

Silently, she rested her forehead against the door and sighed.


	13. Matter of Time

Thanks for bearing with me, guys. It's a bit of a rough one at the moment, what with exams and other stresses. Thanks for the reviews and I'll update soon. Sorry to disappoint you, but Daniel won't find out for a little while yet. I know I said I was going to wait for a magic number of reviews, but I got a magic review instead. Well, a few, including a couple of lovely emails that moved me to tears. What is it they say? Quality not quantity? Well, this chapter is for those of you who have been through it, who know exactly what it is like, have wanted to change the past. Here's a woman who has the chance to do just that.

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Sam walked from the commissary to her lab with a mug of coffee in her hands. She jumped when an SF came round the corner, sloshing hot coffee all over her uniform. She trembled, sending aftershock spills of coffee everywhere, and she cursed the man that had done this to her, caused her to be such a wreck.

She remembered how it had been before, how she had just been one of the boys, or as good as. No one had treated her differently, shown her sympathy, made things easier for her, she was just another member of the team. She could joke with them, go out with them, share tents with them. But now…

She had a problem, she knew that. It had taken a while to admit it, but she wasn't 'fine' like she claimed to people, but she would get there, and soon. She hated that it was taking her so long to get there, but she was strong, she knew that. And she knew she'd make it, she had to.

But she wished she didn't. She wished it had never happened, that she had been able to get on with her life normally, that she didn't jump at every man who crossed her path, that she could sleep without nightmares, or that she could be in a room on her own without being nervous.

What she really wished was that she could go back in time and change what had happened, that she could go back to that day and stop the attack, get the Colonel to walk her home, or be more cautious, anything. But she couldn't do that, it was impossible. Wasn't it?

As she walked into her lab, Sam slid the door closed and put her coffee cup on the table, swiftly gliding round the workbench to her laptop. She rested her chin on her hand as she mused. A couple of years back they had accidentally travelled back to 1969 due to solar flares, and just a month or two ago they had received a warning note written in the Colonel's handwriting, smattered with their blood… it had obviously come from the future.

If that was the case, then it must be possible to predict solar flares and such phenomena, despite what her calculations said. If that note had come just in time to prevent them going to P4C-970, then it proved that solar flares didn't send you to a random point in the time space continuum, that with proper calculations, she should be able to do it.

Sam grabbed a piece of paper and began to scribble. What were the variables in the 1969 trip? The size of the solar flare was a possible variable, or what side of the sun the flare was on. Perhaps one side sent you forward in time and one back?

She cocked her head and frowned. That didn't make a lot of sense, it would mean that dates were completely dependant on the seasons, due to the Earth's rotation of the sun and how accessible certain flares would be.

So what other variables were there other than size and position? It couldn't be timing, because solar flares were supposedly random. But if they were random, then how could they be predicted? It was a never ending loop.

Could the destination have an effect on it? Depending on the target planet, you could hit the flare at a different point or tangent, sending you back to a different point in time accordingly. That would make some sense.

Sam continued to scribble and theorise, filling every spare inch of paper with possibilities and diagrams. It just took some logic and experimentation. She didn't have to learn to live with the attack, she just had to learn to change it.


	14. Briefing Janet

Hi. Sorry about the really long delay. I'm in the middle of exams at the moment so it's a bit slow, and my beta has soo much to do too, she was in Hong Kong for a while, so I only just got word back. I'm posting two chapters for you to make up for this. I can't say sorry enough.

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Janet sat tapping a pen against the desk. Where the hell was Sam?

For the past month or so, Sam Carter, Janet's best friend, had been desperately trying to convince the doctor that she was fine, that she was ready to go on a mission, despite everything she had been through. Not that she would admit having "been through" anything, mind you.

Janet worried that Sam was expecting too much of herself. Despite having tried to explain that she was reacting normally to a very stressful situation, Sam had closed herself off, spending an abnormal amount of time, even for Sam, locked up in her lab, working on some secret project that she refused to disclose, looking gradually more harrowed, worn, tired and depressed every time that Janet saw her.

Protests were made, but Janet stood her ground. She didn't want Sam going on a mission, not when she was so fragile. There was every chance that she could break down in the middle of an important mission, or that she would panic. Right now, Janet wanted to be able to keep a close eye on the Major.

But it had been over a month since the attack, and Sam hadn't shown any signs of breaking down, she had been holed up in her lab, yes, more than usual in fact, but there hadn't been noticeable changes in behaviour, apart from Daniel's reports of her being tense. But that was understandable, given the situation.

Obviously, the blonde wanted to carry on with her life, didn't want to be treated with sympathy, though to some extent that was inevitable. How could they not show sympathy? But Sam wanted to get on with things, go on missions, act like nothing had happened, and Janet could no longer see why that couldn't happen.

She had briefly suggested that her friend go for counselling, afraid of pushing her too far, making her shut herself off, and Sam had assured her that she would sort it, go and see somebody. There was part of Janet that wanted to order a psych evaluation, have her go and see someone on base to put her own mind at rest, but she knew, both as a friend and a doctor, that Sam had to make the decision for herself.

Janet looked up and smiled kindly as Sam walked into the room, her dazzling smile reassuring her, and reminding her why she had agreed to send the officer on this mission. She watched as the tall woman looked around and settled next to her, not in her usual seat on the other side of the table, next to Jack.

She gave Sam's hand a quick squeeze and was slightly taken aback when she snatched it out of reach. Janet frowned slightly and turned her attention to Daniel, who had started to give his presentation, complete with the obligatory arm folding and unfolding, pushing his glasses up his nose and shifting from side to side.

The doctor didn't really need to be in the briefing, as the mission had nothing to do with her or with medical teams or supplies. However, she knew how uncomfortable being in a room with four men must make Sam, even if she denied it. She may well have been able to cope, but it wasn't a risk Janet wanted to take, and she didn't see why her friend should suffer unnecessary discomfort.

Her attention drifted, and she found herself watching Sam, who was scratching absent-mindedly at her left arm, as if there was some dirt she were trying to scrape off. The woman's eyes were wide, flitting between the four men around her, and also occasionally glancing at SFs who were guarding the room.

Sam's eyes said it all, and suddenly Janet found herself regretting her decision. The woman obviously didn't feel secure here, and if she didn't feel secure here, then how would she feel in the wilderness, alone with three men.

She frowned and looked at Sam's pale, grey tinged skin, the dark circles under her eyes, the lack lustre in them, where usually they sparkled. It was clear that she wasn't eating properly, not getting enough vitamins, the skin gave that away, and the dark circles… she wasn't sleeping well, if at all.

The way she jumped and twitched at every movement, Janet judged that she was running off coffee and adrenaline, rather than the sleep she needed. The doctor closed her eyes briefly in frustration, kicking herself for not recognising the signs earlier.

It wasn't long before people started shifting from their chairs, and Sam seemed to almost jump out of hers in her haste to escape. Janet placed a cool hand on her arm, the one that wasn't red from the constant grating of her nails.

"Sam," Janet said gently.

The blonde shook her head. "No way, Janet. I'm going. There's nothing wrong."

"Well, at least let me put some cream on that arm," the doctor sighed.

"Like I have a choice."

Janet followed behind Sam, frowning at her decision, second guessing herself. If something went wrong on this mission and it was because of Sam, then she was in huge trouble. She pursed her lips together as she left the briefing room, one hand on her friend's shoulder.


	15. Briefing Hammond

George Hammond watched carefully as Sam walked into the room, trying to erase the lines of worry and sadness, knowing how stubborn his friend's daughter was, how much she'd hate sympathy.

Janet had made it quite clear to him that he was to keep the information to himself, that he was only told because he was the senior officer, commander of the base, and the doctor was under obligation to do so.

He was still convinced that he hadn't been told the whole story, in fact, he knew for definite. Doctor Fraiser had used such neutral words, just sketching an outline, speaking of an "attack", "internal bruising", "emotional trauma", speaking like it was a stranger, like she was impartial and indifferent. But her eyes belied the pain she was feeling, the hurt and disgust, and George knew instinctively what had happened.

He watched as the young Major entered, carrying herself with grace, walking boldly, without fear, a beaming smile on her face, and he felt a surge of pride. He had wanted so much to go and visit her, see how she was, but he wasn't supposed to know, and he didn't want to pressure her or cause her undue stress. But the way she was continuing with her job and her research, the way she wasn't letting this….thing… affect her, filled him with admiration for this strong and courageous woman.

George narrowed his piercing blue eyes as he watched her hesitate, torn between sitting in her usual seat and sitting next to her friend. Maybe he had spoken too soon about not being affected. But he wasn't going to hold it against her. She was in a room full of men and obviously, given the option, she'd take refuge with the other female in the room.

Every one of his officers was supposed to be equal. He kept telling himself that he wasn't meant to value any one life above the rest, but he couldn't help it. He was closer to some than others. And the affinity he felt to Sam Carter, his friend's daughter, a brilliant officer, scientist and woman, it hurt him deep down to even consider what she had been through.

There was a part of him that wanted to protect her, shield her from harm, especially now, given what she had to be feeling, but he could imagine her reaction to "sympathy", her anger and indignation.

When she had first arrived at the SGC, she had come across as the über-bitch, out to prove that she was as strong, as competent, as brave and strong as any of the men under Hammond's command. She had made bold, feminist snipes, and had tried too hard.

But very quickly, the young Captain had settled in under his command, realising that she didn't need to try to fit in, didn't need to prove anything, because she was a competent officer, she was an intelligent officer, and her abilities were proof enough, without the attitude.

But that didn't stop her. Given a reason, she could come up with retorts that would put Jack O'Neill to shame. Hammond had quickly learnt that his Captain had inherited the famed Carter Stubborn Streak, and he knew that the now-Major would be quick to exercise it if anyone dared show as much as an ounce of pity.

It was something that, in his opinion, she still had to learn. Accepting kindness and compassion was not a weakness, it was a strength. He knew her too well, he knew that she would shun her emotions, thinking them a sign of her own personal shortcomings. Why could she not understand that given her trauma, these emotions were normal?

He looked at Janet and sighed slightly. Lord knows what she must be going through. It was one of the sad facts of life that whilst everyone comforted the victim, the friends got forgotten. In some ways, it must be harder for the doctor, or at least just as hard. Seeing Sam in that situation, being torn between what is best for her friend, what is best for her patient and what is best for her fellow officer. Often military and medical interests seemed to conflict, but in this case with the added strains of friendship.

And Sam Carter wasn't the easiest of patients. He knew that she would fight Janet every step of the way. He knew how she must be torn inside, not just because of her conflicting duties, but because of how Sam was shutting her out when she was obviously hurting so badly. And Janet had no-one to turn to either, not without betraying confidences.

Then there was Jack, the man that Carter had always trusted with her life, but now… now he was like any other man to her, a potential threat. Hammond was sure she knew that Jack would never harm her, but he also knew the strong natural instinct, ingrained into every human being, that instinct to survive, that was causing Sam to push Jack away, block him out.

But it had affected Jack too. Something had changed. The number of practical jokes on base had dropped, alien artefacts were no longer being set off by curious and twitchy hands, sarcastic comments and semi-exasperated cries were no longer resonating in the halls.

As Daniel stood and started to arrange his papers, setting up the computer for his presentation, George thought about all those people who didn't know. Those who were being pushed away, who saw the way Sam was reacting but didn't understand why. He considered how they would feel when they did find out… betrayed, perhaps? Or just upset by the thought that she couldn't trust them. Despite the fact that this was untrue, he knew it would be a reaction that many would have, especially Dr Jackson, who would question the depth of his friendship with the astrophysicist.

Before turning his attention to the archaeologist, the briefing about to begin, one last thought played on his mind. Sam Carter may have experienced the physical trauma, something that few would ever be able to understand, or so he hoped, at least. But the emotional trauma, the upset and turmoil inside was something that every person around her would have to deal with. Every one of them was a victim to the emotional repercussions.


	16. Briefing Jack

This chapter has been sat around in my inbox for a while now. Spazzy beta-d it a couple of months ago, as far as I am aware, which is worrying. I think I did post it on Stargate Intel, which I've always said would get Shattered first as a recogniton of loyalty. However, the Intel fanfiction archive has disappeared and most of Shattered along with it, so I think there are a couple of chapters to rewrite. Anyhow, I'm trying to get back into this after a very inspirational couple of weeks. I would like to say a special thank you to Spazzy for helping with this chapter. She's a funny, warm, compassionate young woman who is wise beyond her years and it's her encouragement that has given you this chapter.

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Jack sat uncharacteristically still at the table. He didn't understand why he had to come to the briefing; he knew already that he wouldn't understand a word Daniel was going to say. He'd tried to read the outline, kind of, maybe. Well, he read the first sentence, but the words consisted of more than three syllables. So he had it filed.

In fact, he doubted anyone really understood, except maybe Carter. Teal'c looked like he was listening, but Jack was certain that he was really in a state of kelnoreem, that he had finally achieved what O'Neill himself had been attempting for years: The art of switching off whilst looking thoroughly alert. As for Hammond, he had this way of flicking through the mission outline, making him look like he was following along, when really, his mind had wandered. Lucky bastard.

But the point was that they all had ways of making themselves look enthused, whereas he seemed to sit there looking like a total dumbass every step of the way.

His brain suddenly whirred, or rather ground slowly, it rarely whizzed and whirred (that was more of a Carter thing). Fraiser was in the room. Why was the Doc there? This mission was a purely cultural reconnaissance, Daniel artsy-fartsy, type mission. They were going to look at rocks. Rocks and people. Unless the people had cooties.

He glanced at the blonde sat next to the doctor and suddenly let out an 'ah' of comprehension, which earned him a baffled look from the speaking archaeologist. As usual, Jack brushed it off with a flippant and slightly sarcastic comment, before turning his attention back to Carter.

He had no idea what she had been up to recently, but she had been spending stupid amounts of time in her lab, even for her. And he could tell that she wasn't sleeping properly, not that he was surprised of course, knowing how hell bent his favourite major could be on completing her various scientific duties.

It had been a while now since he had spoken to his 2IC, felt like eternity. After those first few attempts, he had given up trying to get through to her. He felt betrayed somehow, like she was pushing him away, and he still wondered if he had done the right thing in taking her to the infirmary that night.

If he was honest with himself, and Jack tended to try and keep that annoying little voice locked away, he felt guilty. If he had insisted on walking her home, none of this would have happened. Sure, she was strong, sure she seemed to be handling this fine - it wasn't hard to see how much she hated the inevitable sympathy – but that wasn't the point. Carter shouldn't have to handle it, she shouldn't have to be strong, and it was his fault that she was going through this, his fault because he hadn't insisted on taking her home.

But the other voice in his head, the one he liked a bit better because it said the things he wanted to hear, that voice told him that it wouldn't have made a difference. She would have just hated him for being overbearing and protective. He knew how independent Carter liked to be.

"General!" Jack exclaimed after the briefing had finished, forcing an enthusiasm into his voice. "Just the man I wanted to speak to."

"Drop the act, Jack," Hammond replied quietly, dropping back into his seat and folding his hands on the desk in front of him. "I know what this is about, I've been wondering myself. But Dr. Fraiser seems to think she can do it, and I trust her judgement."

Jack grumbled in exasperation. "With all due respect, Sir, Fraiser is her best friend."

"There's no hard evidence to keep her on base, Jack," the older man sighed. "In fact, sending Major Carter on a mission might be just the thing she needs. She hasn't been off this base in weeks and has been working herself to the bone. It's just a reconnaissance mission."

He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. Hammond was right; there was no logical reason to keep her on the base, especially if it was just a reconnaissance mission. They were within easy radio contact if there was a problem, and all of SG-1 would be there with her. It would be fine.

"But every mission through that gate has the potential.."

"…to go wrong," the General sighed, completing Jack's vocal concern. "I know that, but the chances are slim. We have to get her off world at some point, and I'd rather that was done in simple, accompanied reconnaissance missions rather than those into enemy territory."

Jack shrugged and strolled towards the door. "Yes, Sir."


	17. Mission Teal'c

Teal'c sat contemplating the day's events as he listened to the quiet yet distinctive sounds of night. To an untrained ear it sounded like silence, but even the softest breeze whispered across the landscape, brushing the trees that lined the edge of the gorge. Even at this late hour there was life; the sounds of beetles and nocturnal mammals, the odd splash of a fish deep down in the river below…

Life.

It had been early when SG1 had arrived on the planet and the expression gracing each member's face had intrigued Teal'c. It was one of his secret pleasures, watching and learning the ways of the Tau'ri.

Major Carter had been the first through the gate and Teal'c had noted Colonel O'Neill's disapproval. But that disapproval was a result of another, more powerful emotion, one the Jaffa knew to be concern. He also had strong suspicions of the reason for this concern.

The female warrior's walk through the gate had been fuelled by grit and determination, her pace calculated and stiff, as if it were something forced, trying to resist a natural instinct. Rather than being confirmed, this assessment had been redefined when Teal'c joined her on the other side. Wide, fearful eyes betrayed that forced determination, showing the real reason behind the bravery. Yet he said no word, choosing not to undermine Major Carter's decision but wait for her to seek him.

The last member of the team, Daniel Jackson, appeared to know nothing. His gift for anthropology ran deep, his eye for detail extended to people and their emotions, yet he could not seem to fathom the scope and extremities of those belonging to Major Carter.

"Teal'c…" he had started.

"Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter have revealed nothing to me, Doctor Jackson," Teal'c replied. "Nor would I impart confidential information in the event that they had."

The archaeologist had opened his mouth to reply, but a puzzled expression overtook his facial features and he fell silent. It was apparent that he didn't comprehend what had changed his friend and colleague so much.

As the day progressed and the sun made tracks in the sky overhead, so SG1 made tracks across the terrain; an unusual mix of rock and fertile, green woodland. The team found themselves walking at the top of a gorge, a river flowing deep below them as they continued on their journey to the village.

However, the physical journey was not the only one experienced by Major Carter. Her determination and resolve seemed to go through a devolution and her movements became increasingly hurried and erratic, her right hand pawing at her left sleeve as if trying to scratch.

Having marched on through the midday period, Colonel O'Neill decided to settle early in order to eat and also, he told his two male counterparts rather quietly, in order to 'give Carter a break'. Teal'c was unsure whether he meant repose from the physical or the emotional distress, but all the same he agreed.

Tents were pitched, in itself an unusual occurrence amongst the team in these times. It was more traditional to seek natural shelter rather than draw attention to the group, otherwise sleep in the open. It was claimed that the tents provided protection against the possibility of dangerous winds that threatened to blow them into the gorge. Teal'c doubted this reasoning and, he acknowledged, so did Major Carter.

The jaffa was drawn back to the present by another splash of a fish and became aware once more of the sound he had been trying to ignore; a trembling intake of breath, a stirring every time that the fire crackles, a fish jumped or an unexpected sound occurred.

Teal'c raised his eyes from the glow of the flames and waited for his eyesight to adjust. The orange glow cast light on the thin canvas, revealing silhouettes within. In one tent he knew that Daniel Jackson and Colonel O'Neill were sleeping. It was the second tent with which he was now concerned. In the dim light, he saw a figure hunched up, hands scraping through short hair.

Unacustomed as he was to Tau'ri tradition, Teal'c cared for this warrior and had to restrain himself from leaving his post to comfort her. He felt the desire to wrap his arms around her, something he knew she found consoling. Or used to.

The alien watched on silently, wishing peace upon her, an unpleasant weight settling on his conscience, feeling impotent, unable to help in such a situation.

He was aware, far more aware than his comrades, of her difficulties and her struggles. He noticed details that the evaded the others. The way that she took her evening meal behind her canvas barrier was deemed to be "unusual" by all parties, but Teal'c was certain that they had missed the silhouette that had sat without consuming.

There was a time when he would have prayed to Apophis to guide and strengthen her, but those days were long past. Nor would it help to offer thoughts to Thor or to any other great and powerful creature. His thoughts drifted to Kheb and to the ancient being they had seen there. But prayer, he felt, was futile.

Silently, Teal'c rose from his position and walked to the tent occupied by men, careful to avoid distressing Major Carter. He placed a hand on Colonel O'Neill's shoulder to wake him and a silent look passed between the two of them. Teal'c nodded and was left to meditate on the issue in peace.


	18. Mission Jack

Merry Christmas everyone. This is just a little chapter that moves things on a bit in the mission. It's from Jack's point of view and just shows briefly a little bit about how Sam has been affected. I'm afraid it's unbeta-d, because I wanted to get this out to you for Christmas.

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Jack sighed as he looked from Daniel, who was trying to pacify the natives, over to Sam, who he could see down the street kicking the side of the church with all her might. He was torn as to where his own responsibilities lay, with his team or with his duties, knowing deep inside that whatever he chose, he was bound to mess it up.

Scrubbing a rough hand through his silvery hair, Jack started to make his way down the narrow cobbled street.

The mission, in his eyes, had started well, especially given Carter's… issues. She seemed confident, self-assured and very focused on the mission. He had, of course, made life as easy for her as he could, pitching tents and stopping to rest when her pace started to slacken. Yes, he was slightly surprised by the fact that she hadn't fought against the special treatment, he had prepared himself for the onslaught, but he was grateful all the same.

The second day, she had seemed tense and jittery, but then again, Carter had always been highly strung on missions. Besides, she was still comporting herself with that eerie fortitude that Jack had no mind to challenge.

What should have been a single but long day's walk turned into three and a half days, due to this unwillingness to stretch the Major too far. Jack was acutely aware of her fragile state and how much strength and determination this mission must be draining from her, as much as she seemed unable to admit it herself.

The further the team ventured from the gate, the more frequent Dr Fraiser's radio contact had become. The leader understood this, it was one of the conditions on which he had agreed to take Carter, knowing that the Doctor would be on call in case of emergency. But he also knew that there would come a point when they were out of radio contact, thanks to the electromagnetic interference of the town's technology. And this was something he had dreaded.

Jack leaned back against the wall of the church, underplaying things. He had no idea how to react, whether Carter would listen to him at all, given that she had pushed him away for so long. But he was going to do this the only way he knew how; he was going to bluff his way through.

"Carter," he acknowledged quietly, as she continued to pound her fists against the stone. "Carter, you're going to hurt yourself."

"Well, I deserve it," she spat back, swinging round at him.

Her appearance shocked Jack. Despite the fact that they had been on the mission together for several days now, she always strode out in front or disappeared into her tent, not giving him chance to see…. this.

Her eyes were red and puffy, dark circles underneath. Hair dirty and dishevelled, obviously unkempt. And her face… she was naturally pale, the blonde beauty of the SGC, but this was beyond pale. White, drawn, a sickly colour that spoke of no sleep, of anxiety and poor diet.

Then he noticed the rest of her, the way her clothes were hanging. He couldn't describe it, it wasn't drastic, the weight loss, but it was a noticeable and unhealthy loss.

"Carter," he croaked, finding his voice again. "Sam… it's not your fault."

It wasn't her fault at all. If anyone was to blame, it was him. He should have known better than to let her come on this mission, he should have known better than to let her walk home alone that night and he should have known…

"Of course it's my fault," she snapped, her fists clenched. "You think the generator exploded by itself? You think the control crystals put THEMSELVES in the wrong place?"

His hand hovered near her shoulder but he didn't dare touch it, he had no idea what her reaction would be when she was as fraught and tense as that. Heck, he had no idea what her reaction would be under "normal" circumstances. It felt like his team mate was a total stranger.

"God… Carter… I just wish…" Jack trailed off, slumping back against the church wall as his 2IC dissolved in tears, backing away from him. "I wish there was something I could do… If I could just turn back time or…"

She stood up straight and furiously rubbed the tears away. "Don't be stupid, Sir. There's nothing you can do and there's no need. I'm just being an idiot."

"Carter…" he growled warningly. Jack had a feeling he knew what was coming and he wasn't going to let her take the blame.

"Hey, it was just a bit of rough sex," she laughed bitterly, trying to shrug it off. "No different to anything I've had before. You know, why am I kicking up a stink? I'm supposed to _like_ this sort of thing, right?"

The Colonel pressed his palms to his eyes and dragged them down his face as Carter walked back to the town square. He just wished he could get through to her, make her understand that it was alright to be upset, that it was perfectly normal to be affected. Somehow she seemed to expect to be the perfect little soldier, and it killed Jack to see her do that to herself.

The warning bells had first sounded as they arrived in the town, to be greeted by Antonius. The society was supposed to be matriarchal, women in power, it was Niamh who was supposed to greet them. But they hadn't counted on the Great Feast, a time of council and thanksgiving that the women partook in, held out in the wilderness.

Jack started to follow back to the centre, kicking himself for not spotting the signs earlier. He thought she was holding it together, that she was coping. Isolated and surrounded by men, of course she wasn't coping, she was sinking with no-one there to support her.

And there he was again, bringing it back to himself. Making himself the victim, moping about the fact that she was pushing _him_ away, that _he_ didn't know how to act around her. It wasn't about him, it shouldn't be about him. Carter's the one that needed support, she's the one he needed to think about.

With a growl of frustration, Jack slammed a fist against the wall, then leaned against it in despair, trying to find a way to help Carter back on her feet.


	19. Mission Daniel

_**Sam,**_

**_I know how much you hate my interfering, but I'm worried about you. You've been shutting me out. I know you're hurt and I want to help._**

Daniel scrubbed out his rough jottings and irritably pushed his glasses up his nose. He wasn't sure what to do anymore. Every time he tried to reach Sam, he got pushed away, either by her or by Jack. All he wanted to do was help his friends.

He couldn't pinpoint the moment it had happened, the moment she had changed. But he remembered trying to go down to her lab to find the door shut, something practically unheard of. The first couple of times, he passed it off as coincidence; he had caught her in the middle of an experiment, or maybe she wasn't in. Then he had heard her, heard her crying behind the door.

The archaeologist sat on the edge of the granite fountain, the centrepiece of the cobbled courtyard that they called the town square. It was here that chaos had reigned just a few hours earlier.

He had been in the corner tower of the library at the time, poring over scrolls, trying to understand the importance of the control system that Sam had been working on and how it would aid the town's defence. It wasn't long before he witnessed that importance first hand.

The fountain, as it turned out, was not a simple, dried up water decoration, but a shield generator to protect the town from Goa'uld onslaught. The power was channelled upwards from the generators and through the "fountain". Or at least, it was supposed to.

When the generators had overloaded – he hadn't known it was an overload, but Sam had explained it later on – the centre cannon of the fountain had exploded, sending out not only high velocity shrapnel, but an energy blast that burnt all those in the town square. The smell of seared flesh was still making him gag.

_**Sam,**_

_**It's not your fault. I know you're blaming yourself, you always do. If you need to talk, I'm here…**_

He ran his pencil through the scribbles once more. It wasn't right, it was too… pushy, overbearing, it didn't convey what he wanted. She'd just shy away even more. If he thought for one minute that she'd sit and listen to him in person, then he'd speak to her, but he just couldn't understand. He couldn't understand what could be so terrible, so terrifying that she would isolate herself from everyone, even her closest friends. He had seen her tortured, both physically and emotionally, but she had never…

Of course, the locals hadn't seen it as an accident, they thought that SG1 had come to attempt an invasion whilst their leaders were away; set up a new regime so that defences were set for their return. The men of the town had always been sceptical and the explosion hadn't helped matters.

When she had dashed into the town square, Daniel had instantly rushed down from the tower, to her side. By the time he reached her, she was stood there, shell shocked, pulling at her greasy, dirty hair, face worn with worry and panic. He tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but Sam struck out at him, dealt him a blow to the side of the head.

If he was honest, it wasn't the physical pain that had hurt him, it was the look on her face, the fear, the anger; it was a face of a woman he barely knew. He didn't know what to do, how to act and it scared him, scared him to see his friend breaking down like this and scared him that he was helpless to do anything about it.

He had wanted to chase after her as she stormed down the lane towards the church, but townspeople were swarming round him, accusing him and the team of sabotage and of murder. In a way Daniel was grateful, at least it was him the locals were harassing, not Sam.

Seeing that Jack was undecided, he had silently prayed he would go to her and was greatly relieved when he did. Not only did it give Daniel a chance to try and pacify the angry relatives of the victims without Jack's well-meant interference and hindrance, but at least he knew that Sam was getting support, if she would accept it.

Slowly and with a deep sigh, Daniel now got to his feet and looked up into the night sky, taking in the stars that gently illuminated the cobbled courtyard. He wondered how many of those distant beacons he had visited, then smiled, hearing Sam's voice in his head, reminding him about the difference between stars and planets.

_**Sam,**_

_**Whenever you're ready, whatever it is, I'm here. Please believe me. I'm here and I always will be.**_

Daniel crossed through, then slipped his pad and pencil into the pocket of his vest. Nothing he could say was good enough, it never would be.


	20. Mission Sam

_Roman Catholic, that's what it says on the tags. RC. In that little space for religion. Well that's a farce. Because I don't believe in you, you know. I don't. I'm a scientist. The two can't exist together, side by side. _

_I used to think they could, I used to trust you to get me through everything. When my Mom died, when Dad almost walked the same path. You were the one who got me through. Or so I thought._

_Well, I'm tough. Look at everything I've done in the Stargate program. Certainly showed them that we're not the weaker sex. See, I can do it on my own, you've seen it for yourself. I don't NEED your help. So screw YOU._

_I know you don't accept sex outside of marriage, that it's adultery, that it's bad, that it's a cardinal sin, one of the ten worst. But then you let this happen? What'd you do? Wake up one morning and go "Now what crap can we dump on Samantha today?"?! Do you get pleasure from ruining people's lives? Or is it just mine?_

_I never thought I was perfect, far from it. Despite the Colonel's little remarks, I always knew I had my flaws. But I thought that on the grand scale of things, you know, how likely we are to rot in hell and all that, I thought I was doing quite well. I'm no pope, no Mother Theresa, heck, I'm not even that good a Catholic, but I thought saving the world, helping other planets, saving people and all that sort of stuff would count for something._

_You know, wreck my life if you like. I can deal with that. I can cope with a bit of rough sex, a beating here and there, whatever you feel like doing to me. But those other people? Those other people suffering because of all this? If you hadn't gone and sent that… that bastard to rape me, then none of this would have happened. That little girl over there would still have her dad, the man there would still have his wife._

_What's this got to do with you?! It's got EVERYTHING to do with you! You promised you'd never punish the human race again, or is that promise exclusive to the Tau'ri? If you'd filled my heart with peace, calmed me and rid me of fear like I'd asked – no, BEGGED – then we wouldn't me in this situation now, would we?_

_I can't sleep, can't eat, can't think straight. All because of a bit of rough sex. This isn't normal, it CAN'T be normal. I've seen people out there, women who've been raped with knives to their throats, getting on with life, having happy, fulfilling lives, families and children and the rest of it. So what's WRONG with me? Why is it taking so fucking long for it to heal? I can't take this much more, I'm trying so hard. And it's not like… I haven't even got anything to heal from, not compared to those women who have…._

_I've been tortured, I've been to hell – literally – and yet I can't get over this? I have memories of things that I wouldn't have believed physically possible to endure, I can REMEMBER the pain, but…. Why is it this that hurts the most?_

_Please. Please make me understand._

_Sir sits there with that look of concern on his face, his big puppy dog eyes searching for a response, but I can't comfort him, I can't help him. Hell, I can't even help MYSELF. He just doesn't understand, he doesn't get it, I can't speak to him, face him, sit when he…. He's seen me like that and I hate it. _

_I used to trust these men with my life, the President trusts them with the fate of the planet, and yet now, I can't even trust them to sit in a room with me. I flinch when they step towards me and… _

_When Daniel touched me. I couldn't help it. I couldn't help but swing round, I couldn't bear to be touched because if he touched me then…. And it's stupid. He's Daniel, he wouldn't hurt me, he wouldn't do anything to upset me. He would try not to, at least. And what did I do? I hurt him, that's what. I swung round and lashed out and hurt him. Not just physically, either._

_See what you've done? You've ruined my life, what little life I had. You've twisted it and turned it upside down and here I am, on an alien planet with no-one to talk to except the person who has betrayed me most._

_I hate you. You don't exist, I don't believe in you. I can't believe in a God that does this to his people. I WON'T believe in a God that does this. I'll make it through. You'll see._


	21. Home Sweet Home Janet

Janet Fraiser walked over to the desk to sign out, her hands deep in the pockets of her jeans. As she approached the desk, she pulled her hands out, running one through her deep red hair as she drew the pen over the paper in a squiggle, frowning at the names surrounding hers in the log.

"Has Major Carter signed out yet?" she asked, starting to leaf through the pages in search of her friend's name. "I just can't see her on here."

The airman on duty matched the Doctor's frown and shook his head. "We've not seen her in days, Ma'am," he replied, turning the book round and flicking through. Taking a glance at the doctor's worried expression, he checked the computer database. "Nothing on here, I'm afraid. We had assumed reassignment."

Janet tapped her fingers impatiently on the desk as he ran a search, trying to find the last recorded log for her friend. There were a number of reasons she might try to stay on base, but this... no record in this month's logbook?!

"Last official record we have is almost two months old, Ma'am," the officer said, turning the screen to show her. "There is a note made that she was brought in… medical emergency… about two days later."

The redhead drew a sharp line through her signing out time and marched back to the elevator. Now she thought about it, she wasn't in the least bit surprised that her friend had been on base for the past couple of months, but she was annoyed that she hadn't realised sooner.

The ride down gave Janet time to cool off; her annoyance wasn't at Sam but at herself. She was worried about her friend and was aware that a certain degree of agoraphobia was a standard response to this type of abuse, but if something had been done earlier…

She hovered outside Sam's lab, unsure of what to say, how much she should mention. The memory of her friend, the strong military scientist, breaking down in front of her still haunted the Doctor. Yet Sam never seemed to mention it, seemed to act as if nothing had ever happened. And in a way, this seemed to hurt Janet more than anything else.

"Hey Sam," she said, trying to force an aura of calm friendliness into her voice as she rounded the corner into Sam's lab, a chaotic arrangement of machines and papers, translations and pictures.

Sam looked up at her as she entered and Janet was horrified at the drawn, pale face with dark circles around the eyes. This gaunt creature was nothing like her best friend, and she tried desperately to hide the revulsion she felt.

"I noticed you hadn't signed out yet," she continued, trying to surreptitiously glance at the various scribblings that Sam had scattered across the workbench. What _was _this project that was taking up so much of her energy?

The Major grunted without lifting her head from the computer. She was typing furiously, a deep frown on her forehead. As Janet walked round the back of her, she saw some sort of simulation program running on the screen, but she couldn't seem to work it out.

"So… I was wondering if you wanted to do pizza or something tonight," Janet ventured, keeping her distance from the blonde, not wanting to invade personal space or stress her out any more than she had to.

Sam raised her eyes briefly. "No, I've got too much work to do. Thanks for the offer though."

"At least let me give you a lift home," Janet pushed a little further.

Shutting the lid of her laptop closed, Sam shrugged. "Ok, why not." She ran a hand through short hair and looked briefly around her. "I guess I can continue this stuff at home, right?" She tucked the machine under her arm and flashed a smile at her friend. "Let's go."

Taken aback, Janet walked to the elevator with her in silence. She swiped her card and the two of them entered the car, Janet still shocked that the blonde hadn't put up more of a fight. It was almost like Sam had given up too easily. Did she really not have a problem? Not have an issue with _any _of this stuff? Surely that couldn't be normal.

Janet received an odd look from the airmen as the two of them signed out, but she sent a stern one back, not wanting to deter Sam just in case there was a hint of doubt there.

The journey back was exasperating for the Doctor. The conversation was stilted to an extent that she had never experienced with Sam before. She felt she couldn't just talk, that every question had to be carefully considered for its potential to hurt her emotionally, that certain topics were way off limits. And when she did choose a topic of conversation, Sam seemed to clam up, give short answers, like she wasn't interested at all.

It was bordering on excruciating when they pulled up to Sam's house, the owner sat quietly in the passenger seat, her expression unreadable. For a fleeting moment, Janet wondered if forcing her off the base had been the right decision, whether she should have left her back there and never have visited the lab.

"Say hi to Cassie for me," Sam told her in a taut voice, opening the car door.

Janet drew a deep breath. "You know, Sam… that pizza idea's still on. We can go round mine, have a couple of beers, you can stay in the spare room."

"It's okay, Janet. I have work to do," the blonde reassured her, stepping out of the vehicle. "I'm not a kid, I can look after myself."

As Sam walked towards the house, Janet leaned her head against the window, closing her eyes against the frustration she felt at the breakdown of their relationship. How it had become this bad, this strained, she would never understand.


	22. Home Sweet Home Sam

Sam heard footsteps trotting down the corridor. She had become accustomed to the different footfalls around the base, as trained as Teal'c in such matters. She knew before the woman even got near that it was Janet Fraiser headed towards her room. She also knew that her friend was nervous about something, worried.

"Hey Sam," the Doctor had greeted as she looked up.

Typing furiously, Sam just grunted as Janet continued her carefully planned speech. She hated the fact that her best friend couldn't talk to her anymore, that she felt like she had to tiptoe around the situation, that she felt she had to plan like this and avoid certain topic areas.

Slightly annoyed at the false and forced offer of pizza, Sam almost snapped her reply. "No, I've got too much work to do." Realising how short her answer was, she quickly added, "Thanks for the offer though."

Janet pushed further and it was all she could do not to slam the lid of her laptop down. She wasn't a child, she wasn't afraid, she was perfectly capable of looking after herself. Why was it that everyone seemed to feel it was necessary to treat her differently now? Didn't they understand that she was still the same person? Yes, things had changed a little, even though she hated to admit it, but if she needed anything, she needed her friends that she could rely on and it broke her to see them so unable to cope with the situation. It made her feel like things were out of control. If they couldn't cope, then how was she supposed to?

Before she knew it, Sam had agreed to go home, back to the house. It would be a way of proving to Janet that nothing had changed if nothing else. She followed the woman in silence, making her way into the elevator and up towards the base entrance, trying to ignore the gnawing worry that was growing inside.

She felt self-conscious signing out of the base. How many of these people were aware of what had happened? How many of these people knew the last time she had signed out? Did Janet know? Was that the only reason she had come down to find her? She purposefully avoided eye contact as she made her way to the car and strapped herself in.

Until that point, it had just been leaving the base. After all, Sam had only agreed to prove to Janet that she wasn't the weakling the Doctor seemed to imagine. But now she was moving, now Janet was driving off towards her house, the reality was setting in and the gnawing worry was becoming a monster threatening to consume her.

She tried desperately to concentrate on Janet's questions as her chest constricted with fear. What was the project she was working on? She didn't really want to answer that, she knew Janet wouldn't approve. She just mentioned the planet designation P4X-639, knowing that the Doctor wasn't particularly hot on the codes and the topic seemed to get dropped. How was Mark? God, she didn't know how to answer that, she couldn't remember the last time she spoke to…

The gaps in the conversation, the awkward, extended periods of silence gave Sam time to dwell on what was happening. The fact that she was heading back to the place she was attacked, going back to the house, going back with no added security, no one to look after her, no way of knowing that the same thing wouldn't happen again.

She felt the panic clawing the inside of her chest, beads of sweat forming at her hairline as she forced her breathing to remain constant. She didn't want Janet to spot this. She had to appear calm and collected. There was no rational reason for her to get like this, it was a one off, a bit of bad luck, rapists didn't lurk outside her house on a regular basis.

The car stopped and Sam unbuckled, trying to compose herself before opening the car door. She could do this. She had to do this. The fear was so irrational.

Her voice sounded tight and strained as she spoke to her friend. "Say hi to Cassie for me."

"You know, Sam… that pizza idea's still on. We can go round mine, have a couple of beers, you can stay in the spare room."

Sam forced herself not to break, to keep it together. She appreciated that small get out clause more than Janet could ever understand; that little chance for her to make a choice, an indication that she didn't have to face anything if she didn't want to.

But deep inside, Sam knew she had to if she ever wanted Janet to see her as a normal human being again. She could see in her eyes that look of concern and compassion, but it was mixed with fear and anxiety, a worry that she would break her. Well, she was no porcelain doll; no-one breaks Sam Carter that easily.

She smiled and gave her thanks, turning down the offer and hurrying across the road to the house. She opened the front gate and heard the engine being turned on behind her. Janet was leaving.

The worry built up in her chest and her stomach, her eyes scanning the garden, looking for danger, danger that she hadn't spotted last time. Almost running to the front door, Sam had to stop to find her keys, buried in a pocket. She stood with her back to the door as she searched, watching, searching for anyone who might…

She opened the door quickly and stepped inside, slamming it behind her and leaning back against it. She was back, safe, indoors. But what if…. What if he hadn't left that night? What if he was still lurking somewhere inside the house? Or what if he had found the spare key?

Sam wrinkled her nose, fighting against the irrational fears. She was Sam Carter, she didn't do this stuff. She was strong, a soldier. Yeah. Strong.

Steeling herself against her fears, Sam made her way quickly to the bedroom and locked herself in, slumping against the door in relief. Whatever happened, she needed to finish these calculations quickly. She couldn't keep living like this anymore. She wanted things to go back to normal, to how they used to be. She didn't want to feel so threatened and consumed by fear, she didn't want her friends to be so nervous around her. All she had to do was finish those calculations.


	23. Team Night

Sam self-consciously brushed a non-existent strand of hair behind her ear as she hurried down the street towards the steakhouse. It was a late September evening, the sun still in the sky, casting a hazy golden glow across the streets of Colorado Springs.

She grinned broadly as the Colonel came over to greet her, biting her lip to conceal her amusement as he stopped short and waved awkwardly, avoiding the slap on the back he was planning on giving.

Checking her watch briefly, she apologised for being late, launching into an explanation of how she had had a breakthrough on her latest project and needed to jot things down before they slipped away, elusive as these things were; Daniel would understand.

"It's a team night, Carter," the Colonel chided gently, "Not eggheads anonymous." He put a hesitant hand on Sam's back and urged her up the steps towards the restaurant.

Summer had been a blessing for Sam Carter. Long days and warm weather had given her both the motivation and the sense of security she needed to leave the base, go for walks, jogs, even bike rides. What he had done to her, only a few months ago, seemed a lifetime away, a different universe, an alternate reality and her project had begun to take a back seat as she started to regain control of her life.

With a grin, Sam trotted up the steps of O'Malley's in her stiletto boots, hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans. "Anyone up for pool?" she asked mischievously, turning to watch the guys shift and make their excuses. "Sir?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"I don't think my bank balance can handle your putting," he teased.

She smiled and looked down at her feet. "It's potting, Sir. Potting."

"So it is," he smiled, joining her at the top of the steps and placing a hand gently on the small of her back as they entered the bar. The unexpected gesture had made her flinch slightly, but nothing more. As his eyes met hers, she nodded shyly, knowing the meaning behind that smile, the one that conveyed his gratitude and appreciation of how she had come out tonight, the one that conveyed how proud he was of her.

Breaking away from him, Sam headed for a booth with Daniel and Teal'c, listening to Daniel babble incoherently at the Jaffa, unsure of whether he was showing enthusiasm for his latest project, or whether he had started the beer a little earlier than the rest of the team.

She took a seat, watching the conversation with interest, feeling like an outsider looking on, somehow not a member of the team. She had forfeited that right the night that… It's just that so much had passed, so many team nights she had missed, so much bonding and learning and friendship that she wasn't part of. How could she be a member of that team, how could she fit in aga…

"So, Carter," O'Neill interrupted her thoughts as he set down the drinks and sat down beside her, "I hear you took Cassie to the zoo the other day."

"Yeah. She seemed to enjoy it. Fascinated by the fact that humans are descended from apes," Sam grinned, starting to get animated about the subject, "Then she commented that _certain_ people haven't involved that far past the primate stage."

O'Neill swatted her playfully. "Well just you tell Miss Fraiser that _certain_ people have been confirmed to be the next stage in human evolution."

"I did mention that, Sir," Sam told him, now beaming with delight. "She told _me _to tell _you…_"

"That if you are the future of the human race, then the Tau'ri are screwed," Teal'c completed with a deadpan expression.

The Colonel chuckled as he picked up his beer. "Cheeky little scamp."

The banter continued for a good half hour, discussing recent outings, picnics, loved ones, base members and mutual friends before they finally ordered. Sam had to stifle a grin as the server double checked the Colonel's order to see if it was just for him or for the table. It seemed that their escapades last year hadn't been forgotten.

As the evening progressed, Sam and Teal'c took to the pool table, his logic and her skill proving to be a close match, neither party favourite to win. The crowd around the table cheered as Sam won the third round straight and the blonde felt a blush and a grin creeping across her face. Just like old times. Exactly like old times.

"Okay then, kids, time to call it quits," she heard the Colonel call out to them.

The smile that had graced Sam's features for the evening faded away as the familiar cold sensation of fear and worry crept through her, spilling over her like a dense fog in the deep midwinter.

"Carter? You okay?" she heard him say to her as she felt a hand on her shoulder, causing her breathing to sharpen and increase in rate. "Okay, Carter, take it easy." She felt herself being lowered onto a chair, heard the buzz of people around obviously trying to see what was wrong. But she couldn't focus on it, couldn't pull herself out of this…

_It was cold, she was wrapping her jacket round her as she fumbled for the keys. Where were they? She got them, found them, slotted them in the door, then… she had spilled loose change across the porch. How clumsy. She bent down to pick it up. A prickle in the back of her neck, how strange. Then blackness. Then pain. Then the infirmary._

"Sam," she heard the Colonel's voice trying to calm her like he did back then. The Colonel? At her house? That couldn't be right. Perhaps it was, she wasn't sure, she tried not to remember what had happened that night, tried to shut it away but it was coming flooding back and there was nothing she could do to "SAM."

She looked up into his concerned face, her eyes wide with panic. She couldn't go out there, couldn't leave in the dark. Something could happen, anything could happen.

"It's alright, Carter, we'll take you home," he comforted gently. She noticed how even now he was careful to keep his distance. Or perhaps that was just an act so that no-one would ever believe…. Paranoid, Sam. That's what you are. Paranoid.

She drew a shaky breath and got to her feet. "I'm fine. I'm only going home, right? How bad can it…." She trailed off as she looked at the door. She had to do it, she could hardly stay here in the steakhouse all night, but the thought of going out in the dark terrified her. Scared of the dark? She sounded like she was about ten.

Nervously, she walked towards the door, feeling the eyes of her team mates and several others watching her as she went. It seemed they were quickly satisfied because the men overtook her to hold the door open.

_She was face down, her head throbbing from where it had hit the door, her ankle searing with pain from his rough grip as he brought her crashing back to the ground. She bit her lip, trying to think of something other than the man on top of her, tearing through her insides. _

Sam leaned against the rail as this new wave of memories hit her. "I can't," she mumbled as she grasped at the metal rail, trying to stop her legs from giving way under her. "I can't do it, I can't cope, I can't, I can't, I can't do it…"

"Sam." She felt herself being taken in Daniel's gentle embrace, felt herself being rocked to and fro. Frantically she tried to explain, explain that she couldn't go on, that she was scared because of 'him', that she needed space, not… but she gave in to her need for comfort, letting her cheek rest on his shoulder as he rocked her gently.


	24. Daniel

Why had no-one told him? Wasn't he important enough? Didn't they trust him? Did they think he didn't care about her?

Daniel paced the room in frustration, slamming the now empty cup of coffee back on the breakfast bar before stomping round the open plan of Sam's home once more.

She was in bed now, sleeping in her room at the other end of the house. It had taken some time to soothe her and calm her enough to sleep and had involved coaxing into locking her bedroom door and a promise that he would stay at the house just in case anything happened. Which it wouldn't.

Sam was like a sister to him, a younger sister who he cared for so deeply. It tore him apart to see her like this, and in the broken places a fury seeped in, consuming him, filling him with a desire to maim and seek revenge.

He wasn't a violent man, not as a rule, but as she sobbed into his arms earlier that night…

Daniel wasn't an idiot, he knew something had been wrong, he had known for a long time. But this past summer, as Sam came back into her own, the thought never occurred that something was still festering under the surface, that she was harbouring this huge, crushing, horrifying…

He slammed his fists against the nearest wall. Looking down at his feet, Daniel felt the bile rising in the back of his throat, disgust at the pain one human being could inflict on another. On so many others. Was this the spot where it happened? Was it here? Where he was standing now? Did she put up a fight or was she too shocked? Did he even have the balls to take her face to face or did he have to…

A soft tap at the door interrupted his thoughts and Daniel moved the curtain aside. Jack. Of course. He was rarely away from Sam's side, especially these days. The bitterness surged inside him, resentment that Jack had left him out of the loop. They were supposed to be a team, they were supposed to be best friends. He should have been there for her. He always had been before.

Quietly, Daniel opened the door and moved aside for his colleague to enter. Colleague, not friend. How could he be?

"Is she sleeping?" Jack asked as the door was bolted once more.

In his idiomatic way, Daniel shifted and folded his arms. "She's in her room," he confirmed. Whether she was able to sleep or not was another matter entirely. Who could blame her after all that…

"Daniel..." He bristled at Jack's soft growl.

The archaeologist shook his head. "Don't," he said quietly.

"I couldn't tell you, Daniel, you know how…"

"You _couldn't tell me_? One of my closest friends is hurt, tortured, both physically and emotionally and you _couldn't tell me_!?!" Daniel exclaimed, his anger spilling over and voice raising, despite his attempts to keep quiet for Sam's sake. "After everything we've been through together, all of us, you decide what? That I'm not good enough?"

Daniel stormed back through the house to the living room where he thumped the power switch on the television. "When she was torn about Cassie, who did she come to? Who is it that spends endless nights with her working on problems, talking to her, getting to know her as a person instead of just an… an _egghead_."

"You are _way_ out of line, Daniel," Jack snapped back, swinging round and pointing a finger angrily.

Daniel was fuming, pacing towards Jack, leaning into his personal space aggressively. "Really, because that's not the way I see it. You never really cared for her. The only thing that worries you is that Earth's _greatest treasure_ might be out of action for a while. Why did she tell you anyway? Did you force it out of her? Be your usual insensitive self? Make her breakdown?"

"Stop!" Jack shouted at him. "Just stop," he repeated, quieter this time, as if he had given up. Daniel watched as he flopped down into the armchair and ran his worn hands over his even more worry worn face. "She didn't tell me, Daniel."

Daniel stood, frozen to the spot, not knowing how to react.

"She didn't tell me. I found her." Jack sighed dejectedly and ran a hand through his hair. "There, in the hall. She was unconscious. It nearly killed me to see her like that. So don't you _ever_ tell me… don't you even _suggest_ that I don't… that my feelings for her are any less than the rest of you. Because you're wrong."

The dark haired man sank into the other armchair and rested his chin in his hands. Jack had found her. Here. In this house. What if he hadn't found her? Would she have told anyone? Would she have tried to suffer alone? Without any support at all? Didn't she realise how much they all cared about her, how much they wanted to care for her and protect her?

Daniel sighed with quiet understanding. It was her damn military pride. She didn't want to look vulnerable or weak, didn't want the men to think any less of her. She didn't want to be cared for or protected because, even after all these years, she still felt like she had something to prove.

When would she learn?


	25. Counselling

Sam shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She would never have chosen to put herself in this position. She didn't want to come here, didn't see what good it could do. How could talking about… that… ever do any good?

But Janet had insisted and Sam had seen how much this was worrying her. She had tried to explain that it was just a bit of rough sex, that she could get over it, but somehow this seemed to upset Janet even more, much to Sam's confusion.

Yes, she had problems, but she could deal with them in her own time and at her own pace. She didn't need to sit down and talk through things with a stranger. If she couldn't talk to her friends, how could she talk to...?

Sam fidgeted as she remembered Daniel's hurt expression a few weeks ago. She hadn't told him, she hadn't told any of them, but he had worked it out. He knew. And he felt betrayed that she hadn't confided in him, she could see it in his eyes.

"So," the dark haired woman said quietly, clasping her hands over the clipboard in her lap. "Why are you here, Major Carter?"

Sam blinked in confusion and looked around her. Why was she here? Because she had been sent here, of course. Why else would she…?

"Major?"

"Umm, because Dr Fraiser suggested that I…" she trailed off slightly, her eyebrows raised and shaking her head gently.

The woman scribbled on the paper. "Why do you think Dr Fraiser suggested that you…"

Sam flinched at the way her phrase was parroted back at her. "Because she's worried about me."

"Because she's worried about you," the psychologist echoed once more. "And why is that, Major?"

"You've seen the reports," Sam replied quietly, stiffly. What was it with counsellors? Did they enjoy inflicting pain? Forcing you to relive things you'd rather forget. Things that you'd rather never had happened in the first place.

She felt the icy stare of the psychologist and instinctively looked up. "Did you know him?"

"Wha..? No. No, I didn't. I was just… on my way home from a team night out and… well…" Sam trailed off as events began to replay in her mind.

Fumbling for her keys in her pocket, that prickle on the back of her neck, the warning signal that she ignored. Why had she been so stupid? Did she honestly think she was safe on Earth? That nothing could happen in her own back yard… literally?

Sam closed her eyes and winced as the images came flooding back, the sight of his sweaty face above her as he plunged into her, the pain that ripped through her with every thrust, the disgust, the feeling that she just wanted to die.

She fought back tears, she wasn't going to cry. She needed to prove that she didn't need this. She was already over it, or could be. She didn't need some so-called professional noseying in on her life.

"Let's go over this from the beginning," the woman told her quietly. "You were at your team night. At the steakhouse, playing pool, had a few beers."

"I wasn't drunk!" Sam snapped defensively. At least, she didn't think she had been drunk. Was it her fault after all? Had she been giving off the wrong signals? Flirting? Maybe there was something she wasn't remembering, something she had blocked out of her mind. What if it _was_ her fault?

She watched as the woman scribbled notes, her heart pounding in her chest. This wasn't right, the psychologist didn't believe her, she was against her. Why?

"So what happened next?"

Sam looked down and closed her eyes. She wasn't going to let her read anything into this, she was fine. "I was going home on my own. The Colonel wanted to take me back, but I insisted on walking back alone," she started cautiously, trying to keep herself from sounding hysterical. "I… walked up my front path and up the steps and reached into my pocket for my keys." She sighed, trying to steady herself. These details were fine, she could go through this without any problems. "I spilled loose change on the porch. Leaned down to pick it up, I was sure something wasn't right but I just assumed my instincts were off."

"Why did you assume that, Major Carter?"

Raising her head, Sam looked over to the door. "I don't know. I suppose Earth is my safe place. I don't get my butt kicked by aliens, why should I be afraid of…." She trailed off and grimaced.

"So you assumed your instincts were off. What next?" the woman questioned.

Sam shrugged. "I unlocked my door, felt a blow to the back of my head." She paused. "When I came to, he was…. Attacking me."

"Attacking you?" she echoed again and Sam cringed. "How did he attack you?"

"He…" Sam paused. She didn't know what to say, how to respond. She couldn't… couldn't bring herself to… _say_ it. If she said it then… it happened. It wasn't just her imagination, it wasn't just Sam Carter being a drama queen. If she used that word…

"He had… sex… with me."

"And that was your choice?"

Sam felt infuriated with the woman's incessant questioning. _Was it my choice? _What sort of question was that?!

"No," she replied carefully, trying not to betray her feelings.

The psychologist raised an eyebrow. "So he _raped_ you?"

Sam breathed deeply, pausing before she answered. It sounded so… bad… when she said it like that. But… it was just a bit of rough sex that she couldn't handle, wasn't it?

"Major Carter?"

"Yes," she replied finally, her hands shaking as she realised the gravity of what she had said. It wasn't just an attack anymore. It was rape. She'd finally admitted it. It wasn't just rough sex, it was rape.

Silence filled the room as if the woman was waiting for Sam to elaborate, go into detail. Or was she trying to give the blonde time to remember, time for the images to replay themselves for the five millionth time, as if the first four million ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine times weren't enough.

"How did it happen, Sam?" she said softly, the change in address not lost on the Major. "What do you remember."

"I came round, he was… I fought him and…" Sam tried to speak but found herself unable to do so. She couldn't share it, couldn't speak about it. It hurt too much, it was too intimate, too personal, too raw.

The psychologist seemed exasperated as she put down her clipboard. "I can't help you if you're not willing to talk about it, Sam."

Sam's hands shook as she wrapped her arms round her legs and huddled up protectively, closing herself off. She wasn't going to talk, not anymore, she had already said too much, exposed herself more than she wanted.

"Maybe it's best if we leave it for today," the woman said gently, getting to her feet. "We can talk about it more next time, if you decide to come back."

But Sam had already made the decision.


	26. The Project

The first few months, this project had consumed her every waking moment, so desperate to escape this reality, find another possibility for herself, one without the pain and the hurt. As time moved on it became a security blanket, something she could turn to in the dead of night when the thoughts and feelings closed in on her, when it was raw and painful or just when she needed something to do, something familiar.

Everyone needs a project. That was Sam's philosophy. There was a quiet understanding between her and the work, she didn't need to explain what she was doing or why, didn't need to explain how she felt. She didn't have to worry about the technology hurting her. Not like that. And driving for completion, that new discovery, it kept her ticking, gave her something to live for when everything else seemed so bleak.

Yes. Everyone needs a project.

But now it wasn't tinkering, it wasn't just avoidance, she was back to striving for a result. The psychologist had made her realise just how bad she was, how useless, how idiotic. She couldn't talk about things, she couldn't be helped. And as autumn was rapidly becoming winter once more, she didn't think she could cope with the pain. And if she couldn't be helped, then there was only one solution.

Most people could only wish for this, they could only sit and mope and wish they could change the past, dream that it had never happened. But Sam could change that. If she put her mind to it. And that's what she had been doing for almost a year.

At first she was convinced that it couldn't work. It went against everything she had ever learnt. Solar flares couldn't be predicted and the extent of the time travel would be another incalculable. But someone had worked out how to do it, that note they had received, the one stained with blood, had proven that.

Her first job had been to wok out the variables, what was changing every time. The position of the solar flare was one, an obvious one. The other was the gate address. It had taken some time to work out the calculations, but it seemed that the elements in the solar flare combined with the trajectory of the wormhole's path determined how far forward or back it would take you. Although the flares couldn't be predicted as such, the build up of unstable elements causing a flare could be and Sam had created a program that could simulate the build up and potentially hypothesise the time of a solar flare event.

"Major Carter."

At the deep rumbling voice, Sam looked up from the computer. Standing in front of her workbench was Teal'c, wearing his ever grave expression. With a genuine smile, Sam greeted him warmly.

"Major Carter, I am concerned," he told her, coming around the workbench to stand beside her, towering above her.

Her heart pounded, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter what happened now because she could change everything, make it better. It didn't matter that the psychologist couldn't help her, she wouldn't NEED help. It wouldn't matter that the base psychologists weren't rape specialists, she wouldn't need Janet to take her to a specialist counsellor because she wouldn't have been through it.

"I know what it is you are trying to do," the Jaffa continued quietly, leaving Sam dumbfounded. "And I do not believe it will work."

"Teal'c," she told him with a smile, "I've been working on this for months. I've played out ever scenario, done simulations. It is _going_ to work."

The huge man lowered himself onto a seat. "Major Carter, do you remember K'Tau?"

"Yeah, the Asgard protected planet. P3R-524," Sam recited in confusion. "Why?"

"We inadvertently introduced an alien element to their sun, causing severe damage to the planet," Teal'c continued.

Sam shook her head. "No, Teal'c. This is different. We'd be passing through a flare, not the centre of the sun itself. The risks are minimal. Besides, once I had travelled back, the event wouldn't have taken place. It wouldn't have any effect on the current timeline," she explained, becoming rather exasperated.

"Yet if you wish to return to the present, you would have to place the planet in great danger once more." The Jaffa's voice wore on, ever calm and controlled. "I am unable to believe that you would willingly put the Tau'ri in so much danger, Major Carter."

Sam slammed her hand on the workbench as she jumped to her feet, sending a glass beaker to the ground where it shattered. "It doesn't _matter_ Teal'c! Can't you see, I don't _care_! I just don't care anymore, about any of it!"

"You are mistaken, Major Carter," Teal'c told her as she stalked the room like a caged animal. "You care too much, which is why you feel the desire to change what has happened."

"Teal'c, just stop it," Sam growled at him, stopping momentarily. "You don't understand."

"I understand more than you think," Teal'c replied in his calm, almost secretive manner. "I understand that you are hurt, that you feel you are somehow to blame. I understand that you want to escape the pain. Not many people have the chance to realise that desire, Major Carter."

The two of them paused in silence and shared a look.

"As First Prime of Apophis I witnessed many things," he told her, his voice tinged with sadness. More than Sam had ever heard in his voice. "I saw much torture, witnessed much pain." He turned his head away from her to look upwards. Sam knew he was trying to mask his own pain.

"I have seen many women… many men… break under such anguish," he continued as Sam fought back tears. "And never have I seen so much courage."

"Teal'c, stop," she told him, wrapping her arms around herself. "I… I'm a wreck. A bit of… sex… I mean, that's all it is, right?... and I become this wreck. I'm not courageous." She raised her eyes to meet his. "I'm not." An awkward moment of silence passed between them. "Teal'c… I'm not."

"You have not come this far without strength of character," he told her as the walls she had so carefully constructed began to crack.

She shook her head dejectedly, tears now streaming down her cheeks. "I only came this far because I knew I could turn it all back, change it. I only got this far because I knew that someday I'd be able to make the pain stop." She paused and raised her eyes upwards, blinking away the salty tears that reddened her eyes. "I'm not only a coward, but I'm a selfish coward. Willing to sacrifice God knows how many lives just so that I can…" She grimaced, turned away.

"Feeling pain is nothing to be ashamed of," he said gently, taking her arm. "Nor is asking for help."

As she buckled and began to sob in earnest, Teal'c wrapped his arms around the young Major, holding her in his strong, warm embrace.


	27. The Long Road Home

"So… you wanna come in?"

Five words that seemed to sum up her journey over the past two years, the way she had let people back into her life and let herself become part of theirs. As she sat there in Pete's car, it had suddenly hit her how much she had changed, how far she had come from the woman fighting so hard to keep everything together.

She had fought so much, thinking she was abnormal, expecting herself to be something more because she was a military officer, because she had to be as good as the boys, because she was Sam Carter. But at the end of the day, it wasn't about being something more. It was about accepting the past, dealing with it in the present so that she could look to the future.

Sounds so easy, like something out of one of those corny advice leaflets, or on one of those rape counselling websites. She had never made it to a specialist counsellor, she had been too scared. But that was alright. Someday when she had the strength to work through all those issues she would go and talk to someone. But for the moment she was still working through things herself and with her friends.

It had taken time to rebuild those friendships, regain that trust. Those around her had been scared of hurting her by discussing the issues she felt she needed to tackle head on and so had semi-alienated themselves from her life. At least for a while. But that's the mark of a truly strong friendship, one where such problems can be overcome, where people can surmount their own personal difficulties in order to help and strengthen each other. If Sam had learned one thing on this journey, it was that rape caused more hurt than just physical and had more victims than she could ever have imagined.

She found herself vulnerable emotionally. She doubted herself, her friendships, her morals and her worth. When Daniel died, when she found out about how he had visited the others, Sam had felt so betrayed. Was it an ongoing punishment for not telling him, not sharing everything? Was he still angry at her after all this time? When Jack was tortured by Ba'al, he was there. When Teal'c was dying, Daniel went to him. But when Sam was taken to the brink by Nirrti, when she was hurting, dying… he wasn't there.

And Jonas. A new person on the team, another man. A man that was supposed to replace Daniel, yet she had so much difficulty seeing past his gender. At least at first. He came into their lives at a time when they were dealing with so much as a team and she was dealing with so much as a person. Still raw and tender, not only from Daniel's death but from that breakdown, that cry for help. She hadn't been able to cope with a new character in her life when she was still trying to reacquaint herself with the existing ones, not back then.

She wasn't saying that she was perfect now, that everything was better. She still had bad days, days where things threatened to overwhelm her, where she felt she couldn't leave the house, that the world was going to come crashing down. She still had days where she couldn't face men, even the men she knew, even Daniel, now that he had un-ascended. But those days were fewer now, rarer. She didn't live in constant fear of being attacked, she didn't dread meetings in Hammond's office or working with Dr Lee down in the labs.

Teal'c had been right; there was no shame in feeling pain. In fact, it would have been more abnormal _not_ to react in the way that she did. Men are given control so often in society, and the media almost glorifies male dominance and rape so that it's barely seen as a crime but just, as she herself had said so many times, _'a bit of rough sex'_, something that is usually deemed to be the woman's fault for being provocative or giving out the wrong signals.

Once she had stopped trying to escape reality, trying to fight it by literally substituting a reality of her own, that was when Sam started to come out of her shell. She never noticed it, there was nothing to notice. It wasn't a journey of steps, nothing you could chart day by day, but moments like these made her sit back and think about everything that had happened, stop and take stock.

"So… you wanna come in?"

Those five words had been last night. The two of them had been together for a while, the first time Sam had been in a relationship since before…

She hadn't told him, it wasn't something she felt like sharing just yet. But she trusted Pete more than she ever expected to trust anyone again. Just a few months previously she would have told anyone who asked that she wasn't interested in a relationship, that she was happy being single. Besides, she didn't think she could handle it.

But now she was lying here, in bed next to Pete Shannahan. She had not only spent the night in bed with him, but she had had sex with him, let him take control, something that had always been an issue for her, but especially now. Despite her misgivings, the internal promise to herself that she would never get into that situation again, he made her feel secure, made her feel so safe and loved.

She knew things weren't perfect, that she'd still go through bad times. But she had people to share it with, people to help her through. Whenever she thought about "the project", she smiled sadly. She was grateful for the escape it had provided in the days that she was too weak to face her demons, grateful for how she had been able to vent her anger and frustration through work instead of keeping it pent up inside.

But looking back now, looking back from where she was this moment, even taking into account all the pain and suffering, all the hurt that she had suffered, Sam knew deep inside that she would never change the past, never escape what had happened. Because if she changed the past, it would change the present, change her future.

Her world may have shattered two years ago, but where those wounds had healed, she was strong. It was those unique scars that made her who she was. It was her past that shaped her future, her past that made her appreciate her present, her past that would shape her and strengthen her for years to come.

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And that, folks, is the end. A huge thank you to everyone who has helped and encouraged me over the last year. There are too many names to mention. Maybe one day I will continue, add some sort of epilogue, a look back on Sam's life, but for now I've told the story I needed to tell. It's been a heart-wrenching experience, but also very rewarding and has helped me heal in ways I never thought possible. So thank you. To everyone.


End file.
